The River God's Wife
by KinkyWings
Summary: In order to ensure the safety of her village, Isabella Swan is sent across the river to become the next wife of the cruel and powerful River God. At first, she detests her new life and despises her husband even more. Will she learn to accept her fate in time to realize the forces at play? More importantly, will she ever come to love her husband or is he truly beyond redemption?
1. The Journey

A/N: This is my first Twilight fanfic (I got the idea from a manga I had read years ago)! Please be kind! Hope you like it! XOXOX!

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The Journey

Isabella Swan was all of seven years old when her father first told her the legends of gods and monsters.

Her father scooped her up in his arms, tucked her into bed, and started his tale that lasted for the next two weeks. At first, she thought that her father was just telling stories, wild and unimaginable tales created to sate her overactive imagination. She'd giggled and rolled her eyes at her father's different voices; she had asked a thousand questions that only children could find relevant. At the time, she did not know why her father looked so concerned, why when his stories ended and he blew out the candle, there was a look of painful longing on his face...as if she were already lost to him.

It wasn't until a few years later when she was sitting with the other children at the schoolhouse that she realized that there was truth to her father's stories.

Just like every other girl in the village, Isabella needed to protect herself from what laid beyond the river. Or, even more importantly, prepare herself.

Every year, a young woman of consenting age was sent across the river that divided her village from the land of the gods that lied beyond. The Elders called this tradition The Choosing. The land beyond was supposed to be a magical place, a paradise to live out the rest of one's days in luxury. But that was not why the young women were sent. No, they were sent as tribute to the River God, the most powerful and fickle of all the gods, to ensure another year of good crops and prevent any unwanted storms from flooding the banks.

They always looked so happy when they left, draped in fine white linens and adorned with flowers. What happened to those young women once they reached the other side, no one knew. Over the years, Isabella had seen many bright, beautiful young women get sent across the river. None of them returned.

As she aged, everyone in town began to take notice of her fair, pale complexion and rosy cheeks, her dark compassionate eyes and her thin, willowy frame. _A perfect bride,_ the village matchmaker had said once, planning a future for one who was barely out of girlhood. That was a comment of the tamer variety, the attention growing more and more lewd as she blossomed from child to young woman. She was the fairest in her age group, of that there was no doubt, but beauty like that was only destined for one purpose.

When the sun rose on the morning of her sixteenth year, everything changed. Instead of waking up to breakfast and an embrace from her father, she walked into a room full of white-robed men. They were locked in conversation, heated whispers falling flat upon her arrival, all eyes turned to gaze upon her with reverence and anticipation. Her father was there as well, face set in pinched lines as he surveyed his daughter. She had never felt more lost even though she knew exactly what was going on.

She had been Chosen, and the Elders had come to take her away.

Preparations were needed, they said as they wound wrinkled hands around her smooth, unmarred skin, guiding her away from all she had ever known. Time away to learn what it meant to be Chosen. Time to accept her fate and embrace it with open arms. Sometimes the transition could be an arduous process, but with the proper guidance, they assured her that she would fulfill her role wonderfully.

She would make a perfect bride for the River God.

All Isabella could feel during that moment was a hollow sense of loss, not only for herself, but for her father. He had already lost her mother to sickness the winter after her birth; now he would suffer the loss of his only child. Even though he was known as the stoic, unwavering Head of the Knight's Guild, there was only so much one man could take. She supposed she would soon discover his limits.

Isabella always knew this day would come, she just did not expect it so quickly.

Now, after two-year's separation from her childhood home, she stood on the sands of the familiar shore, staring out into the unknown of her future. The river was so wide that the other side could not be seen. Fog rolled in like billowing clouds, snaking around the ankles of the villagers there to send her off. They had parted as she processed down the main road, following in the steps of all those who had gone before her. She looked just as pale as the fog, clad in all white, not an inch of skin exposed save her face which was shielded by a thin, gauzy veil. From the rippling reflection in the waters below, she could only assume they had mistaken her for a ghost.

The boat rocked as the Elders helped her in, settling arrangements of pale, delicate flowers at her feet, wrapping a garland of white roses and tree branches around the edges as if the earthliness of the vessel would appeal to the watery nature of its recipient. She sat on a bench matted with ivy, the green making her white figure stand out. She looked ethereal, unreal. It was a fitting style, as she was headed somewhere equally as mystical.

"Steadfast, my daughter," her father said, his hard-lined face betraying no emotion other than determination. Isabella looked at her father properly for the first time in two years and found that there was far more grey scattered in his thick, dark beard and along his temples than she would have liked. He looked older, as if the separation had aged him. She feared he would wither to dust without her forever. "Do right by our people."

All she could do was nod, words failing her. There would be no heartfelt goodbye, no last embrace or kind word. She should have expected as much from her father though some part of her was still hoping for his love. But as he stood at the foot of her modest boat with his head hung low, Isabella almost imagined that he were preparing to ship her off to eternal rest instead of across the river. She had already left him and he could harbor no more love for a ghost.

"The journey ahead is fraught with sea monsters and wayward spirits," one Elder, the eldest elder, the first to take her away, said as he presented her with a lantern. It was warped and hammered from old sheet metal, a battered and worn thing with a single candle melting away in the center. "Use this to light the way. Pray to the River God to guide you safely to the shore."

Again, all she could do was nod as she placed the lantern on the bench in front of her so that it could light the path ahead. There were no oars on her boat, no way to control her course. She was subject to the tides, the push and pull of nature to lead her to her new life. She swallowed down her fear, trying her best to smile as all those who came before her. Her people relied on this tradition, on this token of peace. If her sacrifice meant her father might live another year then she was willing to give it.

The boat lurched as it was pushed out from shore, the villagers throwing flower petals into the water behind her, blessing her voyage.

She watched them for as long as she could, until the fog came and obscured them from view, leaving her completely alone.


	2. The Arrival

A/N: Thanks for the warm welcome! You really made my day :) As for my update schedule, I don't have a set one, but I try to update once-twice a month or however often my muse/personal life allows. I don't abandon things though, so don't worry! I'm glad you seem to be enjoying things so far! I've incorporated a mix of multiple mythologies to make this story come to life, and you're introduced to a few creatures this (incredibly long) chapter. **It gets really heavy near the end with some non-con, just as a warning so please read with** **caution**. Hope you like it! XOXOX!

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The Arrival

The journey was shorter than Isabella expected.

The Elders had made it out to be some harrowing quest, a long, perilous expedition into the heart of the great unknown. And while there was some truth to those words, for the most part, the trip across the river was a calm, uneventful one. She had been expecting serpents and winged fish to rise from the abyss and swallow her whole or for wayward spirits to push her boat off course. Instead, all she faced was an unnerving silence and complete solitude. Even the tides stilled as she voyaged further out, unsure how the boat was still moving through stagnant waters. The only constant was the fog, unyielding and thickening into a dense white sheet that barely allowed the light of the lantern to shine through.

Time did not exist.

She had no idea how long she had been traveling, how many minutes, days, weeks had gone by while she sat in her boat. It could not have been long, she told herself constantly. The flowers had not yet begun to wither; her stomach did not growl in hunger. She did not tire, constantly vigilant for any change.

Her mind wandered to those she left behind, friends and a father she would never see again. During her two years with the Elders, they had taught her to let go of all worldly attachments, to free herself from the ties that bound her to the village. They told her that once she left she could never return, but the threat always felt empty, like a vague threat and not the looming reality which she lived. Her fingers itched to steer the boat around, to return to the familiar village shores and beg the Elders to send someone else.

Thoughts such as those were formed in vain. She had already tried bargaining and pleading with the Elders to pick another. They had dismissed her every time, some far more patient with her antics than others.

 _Peace child_ , Elder Clearwater had soothed as she ran a fine-tooth comb through Isabella's long dark hair. _It is an honor to serve the River God._ _All will be well, you shall see._

That night with Elder Clearwater was the only time in those two years she had an inkling of certainty about her role. Most days she had let her mind run rampant during meditation, her thoughts fogging over with fantasies and curiosities about her husband-to-be and the land beyond. Instead of dispelling all negativity and confusion, she welcomed it. The more she tried not to dwell on those thoughts, the wilder her mind grew. Now, in the middle of her journey, those thoughts were amplified ten fold and there was no Elder there to soothe her soul.

No amount of fantasizing could prepare her for the truth.

The fog thinned, and she dared to believe the first signs of the shore came into view.

Ahead, the sun shone brightly in a blue cloudless sky, hanging over a vast expanse of lush greenery. The trees were so vibrant, the grasses along the golden sandy shore swaying in the breeze. It was incredibly warm, humidity sticking to her skin and making her dress feel like it was made of the thickest of wools. She was overdressed, not that she could change that. The currents picked up the closer she got, pulling her ashore. The water was clear so the she could see straight to the bottom and the colorful fish that flanked the sides of her vessel. Still there were no signs of monsters - of fanged serpents with blood red eyes or winged women with wicked songs meant to lead sailors to their deaths - and she wondered if some things were truly made up to scare unruly children into submission...to scare _her_ into submission.

As she neared, more details became clear. Further out along the shore, deep within the land of the gods, she could see a large white structure sticking out amongst the treetops, stone glistening like polished marble. That must be her new home, the palace of the River God. Again, it was a foolish idea to jump to such conclusions. That could be the dwelling of some other spirit or god; the River God was not the only immortal, he was just the most powerful. Perhaps that was why she assumed that everything was his. The Elders certainly ingrained that idea into her brain.

The boat scraped against the shore, sinking into the soft earth below. There was no one there to greet her, to help or guide her, and she felt a pang of disappointment. She had hoped the River God would be there to welcome her to her new home. A foolish notion, she now realized. She was merely a mortal; wife or not, who was she to demand the presence of a god?

She exited the boat, and despite the rocking, managed to land safely on the shore without falling in. The boat swayed in the wind, more easily manipulated now that her weight had been relieved. She felt bad for leaving the vessel there, but there was no one to dock it, no one to make sure it made its way to the correct place. In fact, there was no dock nor person in sight - just herself and a long stretch of river bank. There was no choice but to abandon the boat and forge her way ahead.

Isabella had spotted what she assumed to be the palace from the horizon; that was where she needed to go. There was no obvious path, no way beaten through the dense underbrush of the woodland floor to indicate where she should go. There was only an endless expanse of trees that all looked identical to her less perceptive eyes. That, and she was preoccupied with her clumsy feet, trying her hardest not to trip and ruin the dress the Elders had spent so long sewing. Not that it was practical for a nature trek, but it was not as if they could have known what lied beyond.

Noises from deep within the wood kept Isabella on edge. It almost sounded like laughter, but there was no one in sight. All she could see were trees and shrubs. Not even any animals, which was strange to say the least. There were birds up ahead but they remained quiet, docile save for the occasional song. The silence was unnerving and brought even more focus onto the melodic, sourceless laughter that seemed to grow closer and closer, as if it were all around her.

"Who's there?" she demanded, her eyes wide and fearful. She had the niggling sensation that she was being followed, and though there was nothing behind her, the sensation refused to yield. "Show yourself!"

The trees began to shift, burgeoning and bending in ways trees should not be able. Isabella scuttled backwards, watching not to trip over vines writhing on the ground like snakes. It was a bizarre sight, one that terrified her. She had no idea if these trees were friend or foe, if they were going to bind her in ivy and roots and suffocate the air from her lungs. They closed in on her, the ceiling of green descending rapidly as the space between she and the trees became less and less. She began to panic and shielded herself for protection. Had she offended the trees? Trespassed on their holy land? If only she knew what to do, the proper prayer, the right words to get her out of this situation before she was smothered by leaves and bramble.

However, the trees' descent slowed before they could get too close. Peeking out from behind her fingers, she watched the trees shrink, their trunks thinning into strange but vaguely familiar shapes. Branches conglomerated to form four distinct limbs. Roots and ivy slithered up to the top, falling down in masses. Crackling sounds echoed through the wood as the trees uprooted themselves, indistinct features sharpening into those she could recognize: mouth, nose, and curves all distinctly feminine.

Isabella's heart stopped.

These trees...they were alive?

It seemed impossible, but yet, in the realm of the gods, there was no such thing as impossible. The tree women moved slowly at first, testing out their wooden limbs. There were only a few, their skin comprised of bark and moss, eye sockets hollow and dark like woodpecker holes. Flowers bloomed from their bodies, decorating them in pastel shades of purple, pink, and yellow. They wandered towards her, and though they had yet to express their intent, Isabella could tell they meant her no harm.

She searched her mind, years worth of stories and teachings directing her to the correct name for her visitors: Dryad.

Isabella bowed reverently to the dryads, hoping that maybe if she won their good favor they would guide her to the River God. They gathered closer as she maintained her bow, tendrils reaching out to touch her hair, her veil, her face. They seemed captivated by the sight of her, as if she were some exotic creature to be observed. How funny, she thought, that she should be the exotic one in the land of gods and spirits.

"I mean you no disrespect, oh benevolent ones," she said respectfully. "I am lost on my way to the River God's palace. Can you guide the way?"

"She is the River God's new wife?" one with yellow lilies blooming where her eyes should have rested asked in a rough, wheezing voice full of confusion.

"Of course, look at her! Clad in white!"

"He always takes the pretty ones," another half-covered in lavender lamented, higher in pitch but still grating.

"But so young..."

"No younger than the others. Always the same."

"Always lost, always seeking help, always seeking the way."

"Do you know the way?" Isabella asked, cutting through their conversation. She did not want to be rude, but she did not want to keep her new husband waiting or incur his wrath before they even met.

The path before her rumbled and cleared as underbrush and roots rolled away, leaving an unobscured dirt trail for her to follow.

"This shall take you to the River God," the dryad dotted with red hibiscus said, taking her by the wrist with prickly wooden fingers. "But you must be sure. Are you certain this is the path you wish to travel?"

The question was heavy, the dryad's voice full of an emotion Isabella could neither place nor like. It felt like a warning, as if there were some horrible fate that awaited her at her new home. As if all of her latent fears and doubts were actually rooted in truth and she were about to make some terrible mistake. But those were just fears, the conjecturing of a scared little girl. Isabella was not a scared little girl, not anymore. She was a determined young woman who had made up her mind to do her duty for her village. She had come this far. She still had more to go.

"I am sure."

"Then be off."

The dryads let her be, watched her leave them behind with silent judgement. She could feel their empty eyes following her long after she turned down the path. They were all around her, after all. Any one of these trees could be harboring a spirit, and that put to rest any of the questions she had about being alone. Apparently, she would never be alone again, not if all of nature was alive and well around her.

A bit of walking later, and the path deposited her at the front steps of the white marble palace she had spied on her ride to shore. Looking back, the dryads shifted the ground, obscuring the way back to shore as if there were no path in the first place. Isabella swallowed thickly, mustering up enough courage to climb the steps and enter her new home.

The palace itself was an impressive, towering structure left completely open to the elements, though she assumed that gods did not have to worry about such things as disaster or inclement weather. She passed through rows of tall corinthian columns that stretched all the way up to the domed ceiling above. The walls and floors were decorated with murals and frescoes created from fine jewels and stones depicting all sorts of tales she could only pick up in pieces. Some were familiar, such as those that displayed images of sirens and mortals, though some were vague, ones that included other godly or powerful forces. They piqued her curiosity, distracting her from the pool she was about to walk right into.

She let out a shriek, ready to expect the cold wave of water, but instead came up short, the wind knocking her back into balance. It was an odd force of nature, an unnatural gust strong enough to right her. That was enough to keep her panic at a steady level, now convinced she was not alone as she thought she was.

This time, she did not have to ask for her savior to come forth. Instead, the gust of wind condensed into one solid figure, an inhuman-looking young woman emerging from the breeze, dispersing it as if she were shaking off the fog. A wind spirit - _aura_ , Isabella's mind supplied. Her skin was pale, nearly translucent, as was her hair and her eyes sparkled a bright blue. She looked young, cherubic, and far too excited to see Isabella.

"Welcome! I see you found your way past the dryads," the young woman mused, taking in Isabella's disheveled form. "They didn't shake you too badly did they? I apologize for their behavior. They can be quite fickle."

"They were helpful. They showed me the way," she said, not wanting to get the peaceful spirits in trouble. It seemed as though this aura did not think too highly of them.

"They must like you then," the aura replied, surprised. "The last bride was lost in the bramble for two days because they kept switching the path."

Isabella shivered, thanking the dryads for not cursing her with such a terrible trip. For whatever she had done to win them over, she was grateful.

"Let's get you out of these clothes," the aura suggested, gesturing for Isabella to follow her up the stairs near the back of the room. "I do not understand the mortal tradition of covering everything. That cannot possibly be comfortable."

"It's not," Isabella admitted, pulling at the collar of her dress which had been plastered to her skin with sweat ever since setting foot on the warm shore. "I was told that the River God appreciates modesty."

"The River God cares not about such trivial things. In fact, there are very few things to which he holds value."

"Oh," she replied, her pride somewhat bruised. "I was not aware."

"There are many things to which you are not yet aware, but you will learn, in time," she assured, voice far too chipper for a statement coming off as patronizing. "Come."

She led Isabella up the marble stairs to a balcony leading to a long hall that separated the open room from the rest of the palace. Looking back down from where she came, she marveled at the grandeur of it. The fountain in the middle of the room topped with winged creatures that spilled over into the pool on the floor, the walls lined with fine vases and busts, the tops of the pillars wrapped in ivy which grew the most sweet-smelling flowers. There was a strong breeze near the top of the dome, the wind moving in distinct shapes letting her know that there were more aurae watching and that she should move on.

The rest of the palace was equally as grand, at least from the halls the aura guided her through. Everything was carved out of white marble or some sort of stone, smooth and slippery to the step. The aura glided over the floor, her feet never touching the ground which made it hard for Isabella to keep up with her pace. Soon enough, the hall ended with two sets of double doors: one to the left and the other to the right. The aura opened the pair to the right, waiting for Isabella to step inside.

It was a bedroom, and though she should have assumed that was where she was being taken, the intimacy still came as a surprise.

"Is this - " Isabella started, not able to put words to her thoughts.

"Your room, yes," the aura confirmed, smiling widely. "My master's room is next door, right through there, though I doubt he is there now."

She pointed to a closed passageway: a golden, arched door draped with white gauzy cloth as if to provide extra privacy. Isabella's curiosity grew, stepping over to the door, catching the drapes with her fingertips. The material was so thin, she could barely feel it. So strange...

Moving on, she surveyed the rest of her room. The bed was placed against the wall, a large four posted monstrosity that could fit her and ten others if she tried. A vanity and a bath rested against a far wall, the bath on a raised dias and shielded by a golden screen as if to preserve her privacy. A large wardrobe and mirror were situated on the wall in front of the bed, the last wall left entirely open to nature, supported by more corinthian pillars. She wandered out onto the balcony, absorbing the view. From her room, she could see out over the horizon to nothing but greenery. If she turned, she had the perfect view of the river and its sandy banks. She had never gazed upon something so stunning; truly, this was paradise.

After some coaxing, the aura had Isabella undress and helped her into a steaming bath, body slipping underneath the water and leaning up against the gold rim of the tub. It was an opulent fixture, just as everything else in the River God's palace had been. Much too fine for her, if she were being honest. She could not appreciate such luxury, though she supposed she would have to get used to it. Familiar worries crept back into her mind, old doubts about her willingness to actually go through with the marriage, but she pushed them aside. She was already in the River God's home, bathing in his palace, taking the room adjacent to his. In her mind, they were already married. All that was missing was the ceremony.

"There there, that's it," the aura cooed, her voice light as air. "I am glad you are relaxed. You were so tense before."

"Just thinking," Isabella smiled and dismissed her feelings. She doubted the kindly spirit was interested in the doubts and fears of a mortal woman. Though she looked young, the aura must have been hundreds of years old, if not thousands. Perhaps one day, she might find herself at that age. It was a terrifying notion, one that brought back some of the tension.

The bath had gone tepid and lukewarm, and she shivered which spurred the aura to grab a robe and wrap Isabella up in it. Despite the heat, she was grateful for the layers, already feeling more exposed than she was comfortable.

"I never asked, but do you have a name?" she asked the aura, feeling guilty for not inquiring sooner after all this woman had done for her.

The aura smiled, this time much softer. "My name is Plia."

"Thank you, Plia. You have been very kind to me."

"It is my honor, My Lady," Plia said, guiding Isabella to the seat at her vanity. There was a smaller stool that Plia sat herself down upon behind Isabella. She picked up the golden comb from the vanity and began to run it through Isabella's hair, the motion soothing and grating sensation against her scalp pleasant. "It is the purpose of all the aurae to serve the River God, his home, and his beloved."

"That is kind, but I do not think I am his beloved," Isabella blushed, fiddling with the edges of her robe.

"What makes you think that?" Plia asked, genuinely confused.

"I have not yet met him...I do not even know what he looks like," Isabella answered, feeling a strange sense of sadness mixed with apprehension. Outside of her daydreams, she had never before inquired about her husband to the Elders only now to realize she was married to a man she hardly knew. It was a jarring, upsetting fact, one that she wanted to remedy. "Could you...would you mind telling me what he is like?"

"Oh, where to start," Plia started, looking pensive as she pulled the comb slowly through a knotted section of hair. "He is strong and firm, a commanding presence. You can always feel when he is coming because the room just grows full of energy. Most of the time, he assumes an aqueous state but when he does come to shore his has pale skin, a square jaw, and eyes that look like the sun itself. Many of the nymphs fawn over him, but he spares them no attention. His sole focus is his duty to the river."

"That sounds lonely," Isabella lamented, thinking of her husband toiling away at the river's edge day in and day out, never resting or relenting in his duties.

"He is not lonely. He has you," Plia assured, an unrelenting source of optimism.

"And the others," she added

"Yes," Plia agreed, her smile falling slightly though Isabella knew not why. "And the others."

"Where are they? I noticed the palace was strangely empty, and quiet."

"You shall meet them soon enough," Plia replied, her smile still in place but not as jubilant as it once was. It concerned Isabella why the topic of the other wives would cause the happy aura to lose some of her spark. Perhaps she was used to dealing with the wives, potentially petty women that did not want to hear about the others even though they were all trained to be docile creatures free from jealousy.

 _Remember, when you see your sister wives on the other side, do not resent them_ , Elder Clearwater instructed, her face set in firm serious lines as she accentuated the point. Y _ou are all bound by sacred duty. You are all Chosen, and that makes you kin. Love them as you would love your own._

"Where is the River God?" she chose to ask instead of focusing on the other wives. After all, he was the reason why she was here.

"He comes and goes when he pleases."

"Does he know I have arrived?"

"I am sure he sensed your presence as you crossed."

"And he does not wish to meet me?"

"Not to worry. He will approach you in his own time, in his own fashion," Plia said with a smile, holding out a finger to hush the remainder of Isabella's questions. "It is not your purpose to concern yourself with the River God's whereabouts or dealings."

Isabella did not like that answer, not when the others had so far made her feel rejected. She did not like being so forcefully shut down by an aura in her new home when she believed that her inquiries were both necessary and valid. She was not quick to anger nor angry in general, but her skin prickled at the slight, and she frowned deeply.

"Then what is my purpose?" she asked somewhat indignantly.

"To be a wife," Plia answered simply, as if the answer were an obvious one.

"But if I cannot be part of his life and there are aurae to take care of the home, then how am I supposed to be a wife?"

Plia simply averted her gaze, hand folding delicately over her stomach in a manner Isabella had only noticed before in women with child. Immediately, her heart seized and her throat closed up, understanding the meaning behind the gesture.

"Oh," was all she managed to pass through constricted vocal cords.

"The sun is setting," Plia commented, and sure enough, as Isabella turned to look out the balcony she saw a red and orange streaked sky surrounded by the fringes of oncoming darkness. "Come, let us continue conversing in the dining hall."

Begrudgingly, Isabella let the aura guide her through the remainder of the palace, down a set of winding stairs to another open-air room. This one was littered with candelabras and torches along the walls, a large wooden table enough to seat the entirety of her village in the center with matching chairs along the edges. The chair at the head of the table was most ornate, etched with intricate silver gilding and a green velvet cushion. Presumably, that spot was received for the River God. A similar though smaller and less intricate version of the chair sat at its right, presumably the one for her. Suspicions were confirmed when Plia scooted the seat out for Isabella to sit, pushing her in afterwards. Plia did not sit but remained standing close behind Isabella while gusts of wind from other aurae brought plates of fresh seafood and fruits to the table. It wasn't until all the smells hit her nose that Isabella realized she had not eaten all day and she was ravenous.

She would have been embarrassed at how much she consumed, but the foods were too succulent to pass up. There were fruits so colorful and wild that she could not begin to describe them other than their impossibly sweet, addicting taste. She gorged herself on all she could until her stomach burgeoned and she was convinced she was not able to move from her chair. Plia merely laughed and pulled her up, guiding her back to the room. It was getting late, nearly time for bed as Plia pointed out, and it was her duty to settle Isabella in for the night.

Plia moved around, handing a nightgown to Isabella before going to fluff the pillows and draw back the sheets. Perhaps, if Isabella had been more attentive, she would have noticed the aura lighting candles and drawing the gauzy curtain open. But no, Isabella was bright red with embarrassment and frustration at the aura for what she had chosen to dress her in.

"Whatever is this for?" Isabella asked, coming out from behind the screen clad in the poor excuse for a nightgown Plia had given her. It was far too skimpy and revealing for her taste, leaving nothing to the imagination as the material was a thin, sheer white. It was a contradiction, clinging to her curves yet billowing out like a shapeless robe. The neckline was wide enough so the flowing sleeves fell down her arms, leaving her shoulders bare. Plia seemed to think the gown was fine, clapping her hands together as if Isabella were the prettiest maiden she had ever seen.

"I caught word that the River God may visit you tonight," Plia explained in a hushed whisper, as if she were not supposed to be sharing this information and her sister spirits could overhear. "You must be ready to greet him."

"I thought you said he did not care for outward appearances," Isabella asked, completely confused and now dazed as her heart jumped out of her chest. Her nerves were overactive at the thought that she would finally be meeting her husband.

"He does not care what you _wear_ but he does care about what lies _beneath_ ," Plia clarified, rushing around to dab Isabella's cheeks with powder and her lips with a light rouge.

"I could faint," she said, her voice light and airy as Plia's though it was more natural sounding for the aura.

"Just breathe," Plia instructed, scuttling to straighten up the already immaculate room. "Remember, when he comes to you, address him as "My Lord" and don't forget to bow to show respect. Anything he asks, give. Anything he instructs, do. It will be better for you this way."

"Better how?" Isabella asked, panic lacing her voice at the seriousness and the vague meaning behind Plia's warnings.

However, the aura never got the chance to respond, not when the doors flew open unceremoniously to reveal the River God himself. Immediately, Plia dropped her gaze and her head, becoming stoic and silent - a complete opposite to the aura Isabella had come to know.

"Aura, be gone," the River God commanded, his voice rumbling and deep, not even deigning to glance Plia's way.

"Yes, My Lord," Plia acquiesced, curtseying deeply before dissolving into wind.

Now Isabella was completely alone with her husband, and she did not know whether to present herself or run away.

Plia had done a poor job in describing the god. Yes, he was what she had said: pale in skin with a square jaw and commanding stature. What she had failed to describe was the way he moved, so gracefully in fluid movements as if he were still in the river. He wore robes of blue with intricate silver detailing and a belt studded with sapphire gems around his waist. His red-brown hair was short, though had enough length to curl slightly at the ends, resting upon his high forehead, framing the slope of his nose and cupid's bow lips. The most stunning were his eyes that burned a bright gold, his gaze intense and unyielding. As the focus of that gaze, Isabella felt small, his presence towering over her own.

"You are the one they sent to be my wife?"

"Yes, My Lord," Isabella replied, gaze flickering from his eyes to the floor.

She was so nervous, so anxious for this meeting that she had never once thought about how it would actually go. She had no idea how to act or what to do or what to say. Having a husband was new and unfamiliar territory, and to have a godly husband at that...well it was extra complicated. If she displeased him, he could smite her into ashes with something as simple as the snap of his fingers. He seemed to take a liking to her outwardly, no signs of displeasure or smiting which let Isabella breathe a bit easier.

"You are a virgin?" he asked, his tone clipped and impersonal.

She only nodded, incapable of speech. The River God merely hummed his approval, continuing circling around Isabella, eyes raking over every detail. She had never before felt so exposed, even despite the layers she had on. It felt as if he could see right through her, eyes ravishing her in a way she had never experienced before. The sensation was unnerving, and not particularly welcome.

Her lips were trembling. This was not what she expected. She had not expected fear.

"Lie down on the bed," he instructed, but Isabella remained rooted in place, completely dumbstruck. "Did you not hear me woman? Lie down on the bed."

"W-why?" she asked, a ridiculous question as Plia had told her earlier what he had come for and she knew there was only one reason a man visited his newly wed wife in the nighttime hours. Still, that did not stop the blinders of innocence from obscuring her thoughts. She could only hope there would be no repercussions for disobedience. She had been told to consent to her husband's ever command. She doubted he would take well to questions.

"We are to lie as husband and wife. That is the arrangement I have made with your people."

"But we are not yet wed," she pointed out, pulling the cloth closer to her chest as protection. "It would be wrong."

"Godly marriages are not nearly as convoluted as mortal ones. Your crossing was enough to bind you to me," he dismissed, golden gaze growing more predatory. "Now I am your lord and master, and you will do as I bid you. I shall not ask again."

Isabella swallowed thickly past the lump in her throat and nodded, willing herself not to panic or cry. She knew this night would come, that this wifely duty could not be stalled or pushed away. She had only hoped that her husband would be kind with her, be gentle to her fragile body, but this man - this _god_ \- seemed unconcerned.

She must have moved too slowly, as an impatient hand reached out to grip her wrist while she was walking, pulling he away from the bed and up against firm flesh. The River God pushed the sleeves of her robe down her arms, pulling the rest of the garment down with it. Since the aura had dressed her in light layers, there was nothing underneath the robe, leaving her completely bare and exposed. Her body shivered and shook thought it was not cold. Perhaps it was due to the intensity of the River God's stare, his irises the color of molten fire and filled with a passion that left her breathless. His fingers left a blaze across her skin, tracing their way down her arms, across her sternum, down the cleavage of her breasts to tweak her right nipple. A gasp ripped from her lips, the flesh extremely sensitive.

The River God seemed to glean some sort of pleasure from her noises, roving his finger tantalizingly in circles around one nipple before moving over and repeating the process with the other. Isabella's thighs quivered, her knees threatening to buckle at the sensation. She had never imagined such an overwhelming feeling. Touching herself had been forbidden; the Elders had practically trained her to keep her hands folded in prayer to prevent her from acting on any perverted thoughts. She had to be pure for her husband; any wayward stain on her sex and he would know. Her patience and discipline clearly pleased him, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he trailed his fingers further and further, continuing their dance until he had settled a hand between the junction of her thighs. Then she really did make noise, a vial, primal noise that made her cheeks flush red in embarrassment as she was too late to stop it.

The River God removed his hands from her body, the loss of his heat staggering. However, she flushed even brighter as she watched her husband disrobe, the fine blue cloths pooling at his ankles as he removed the belt and sash that held them in place. Her mouth ran dry as she took in his naked form: chiseled chest and broad shoulders flexing, eyes following the ripples of muscles down defined arms and powerful calves. The last places she dared cast her eyes was between his thighs, the full force of his blatant erection already lying rigid against his abdomen.

He wore his sexuality unashamedly, knowing exactly what he wanted and just how to touch her to get it. His hands came to rest upon her upper arms, not gently but not harming the skin to where it bruised, and guided her against the bed. She fell down on her back into the expanse of sheets, pushing her way up to lay her head against a pillow thinking perhaps that would make her more comfortable.

"Spread your legs," his voice rumbled, the vibrations moving moving through her.

She did as she was told, opening herself to him completely as her legs fell apart at her sides. She was shaking, her entire body jumping with the fear of anticipation. He took hold of her knees and spread her even further, her muscles burning in protest but she dare not voice a word of complaint lest she want him to handle her with further roughness. He situated himself between her legs, the heat of his own groin pressing upon hers, and she was forced to shut her eyes.

"Oh!" she whimpered, biting down on her bottom lip as she felt him push his way inside her. The pain was overwhelming, his manhood far too large for her delicate frame. It felt as though he could rip her in two, and perhaps he would as he settled fully sheathed inside her, the seat of his pelvis pressing up against hers.

He moved too quickly and she cried out, the pain radiating through her abdomen in a way that made her vision dance with stars.

"Please, my lord, stop," she pleaded, her words broken.

He did not heed her word and moved yet again, this time pulling out and pushing all the way back in.

She screamed, only to be met by a large hand covering her mouth.

"Quiet child!" the River God commanded, his golden eyes ablaze with something unrecognizable. It terrified Isabella into compliance.

Though the River God removed his hand, Isabella dared not utter another sound other than the pitiful whimpers that escaped her sealed lips. She swallowed down cries and bit down on her bottom lip, trying her damnedest to stay silent. Her eyes compensated for what her mouth refused to utter, salty tears stinging at the edges of her screwed-shut eyes. Her body shook and jostled with the rest of the bed as her husband thrust repeatedly inside her, the pace unrelentingly fast. The air was thick with the humidity of sweat, the obscene sound of skin rubbing on skin and heavy breaths mingled with her distress echoing across the walls.

With another thrust he was pouring his hot seed into her body. The sheer implications of the act were enough to make Isabella cry out. She wanted him to remove himself from her, but he did no such thing, instead completing nature's course and riding through the waves of release. When he was through and softening inside her, he rolled away, promptly getting up and sitting on the edge of the bed. It did not even matter that she did not find pleasure in the end. She was only grateful he had spent himself quickly and was not in the mood to linger.

Isabella could do nothing but stare blankly a the ceiling, watching patterns of the tiles make shapes in her spotted vision. The last moments did not feel real, more like a dream she had dissociated from. But the cooling juices spilling out onto the sheets was real, the ache between her legs was real, and the pain that settled into her chest that felt as if her heart was cracking in two was very, very real.

Her husband did not seem to care for her fragile state. No, he simply stood and collected his things, going about his business as if this were a normal part of his evening.

"I expect you to be more forthcoming next time," he grumbled as he replaced his robes, pulling up his sash and tying his belt in place. "You are my wife. Best to act like it."

Just like that, he left the room, doors slamming closed behind him, leaving Isabella in crippling silence. She was not sure if she could even move her legs, muscles sore from disuse and sheer abuse. Craning her neck, she could see the first signs of bruises forming in the shape of fingerprints on the outsides of her thighs and hips from where he had gripped her. She fought back tears, willing herself to be strong as she curled up in bed.

The stories were wrong. Her husband was no god. He was a monster.


	3. The Morning After

A/N: I know that the last chapter was jarring, but rest easy readers as that was the only non-con/rape scene intended for the remainder of the story. I realize I should have done this sooner, but any and all warnings will be placed at the top of each chapter from now on. There are none for this one:) Also, I apologize for the inconsistency of my chapter lengths, as this one is significantly shorter. I had a lot to get through in the last one and couldn't find a good place to cut it off. Hope you like it! XOXOX

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The Day After

The spoon swirled idly around the golden rim of the bowl, making ripples in Isabella's untouched soup.

Plia glanced over at Isabella disapprovingly, but she did not care as she was not hungry. She was not much of anything since waking up, shuffling around the palace half-cognizant while Plia did her best to cheer her up. The aura knew what had happened last night; Isabella was a fool to think that a wind spirit was hard of hearing when the sounds carried across the walls easily enough. She would have thought such a display would give the aura rise for caution, but that was not the case. Plia drew back the curtains and awoke her mistress from a restless slumber as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, a haunting thought stored away for another day.

Isabella felt ill, the scent of foods once tantalizing the evening before now repulsive. She gagged when other aurae placed a breakfast tray on her vanity, green in the face while ordering the meal be taken away. Plia had been worried, insisting she eat something to keep her strength. Now, an entire evening later, Plia had managed to convince Isabella to leave her room and sit for what the aura considered to be a 'light' dinner but was in reality a full four courses. She had barely made it through her plate of fruits before the sweet, sticky nectar had her stomach rolling. Now, it took all her effort not to throw up in the soup, the spinning orange vortex created by the spoon giving off a dizzying effect that did nothing but worsen the nausea.

"Am I with child?" Isabella asked quietly into her soup, as if it held the answers. She had heard that sickness and distaste for foods were signs, but it seemed rather fast to be experiencing those so soon.

"Oh goodness no!" Plia exclaimed, holding one hand up to her chest, startled. "You need months to pass for that sort of thing to happen. Besides, you are so young. It will be a few tries before a child takes to your womb."

Isabella wrapped her arms around her abdomen, as if the tighter she squeezed, the more she could ward off a baby.

"Whatever is the matter My Lady?" Plia asked worriedly.

"Lying with him..." Isabella started, not comfortable with being so open. The Elders had always encouraged honesty, for her to speak her mind, but she had been too timid to do so. "Is is always supposed to hurt this badly?"

"You were a virgin when you lied with the River God. Some pain was expected when he broke your maidenhead."

Isabella flinched at hearing the words stated so plainly, as if what happened to her could be summed up neatly and described by a few commonplace words.

"No, not that," she clarified, feeling exposed even more so than when she was naked in front of her husband. "I meant hurt on the inside."

"I do not understand what you mean."

Plia looked genuinely lost, and Isabella sighed. Of course she would not understand; as an aura composed entirely out of wind, she lacked a true inside. There was no flesh to feel pain, no bones to break or blood to surface. Isabella envied Plia, if only due to the face that she was completely untouchable. Isabella would have given anything to be so pure once more.

"I feel so empty, as though he has taken something from me. And these negative emotions...they overwhelm me," Isabella said honesty, barely scratching the surface of her true emotion.

What she was feeling was complex, as if the section of her chest where her heart once resided had been scooped out and replaced with something dark and burning. As if she went to sleep one person and awoke someone else, this new person someone she did not like nor recognize and not because they were something horrible, but because they were something tragic. When she had studied her reflection in the mirror that morning, her dark eyes fell flat, lacking their usual shine that had once drawn the Elders to Choosing her. For a moment, she considered that the River God had married her to steal her beauty, but the silly notion was cast aside. No, it had become evident that the River God did not seem to care about marriage at all.

Perhaps the Elders had been lying to the villagers and herself all along. Perhaps the River God did not know why all these women were sent to him, one after the other, year after year. Perhaps he had just grown to accept it, grown to anticipate and play along with their stories. It was the only feasible explanation for the cruelty the god had shown his wife, the one he requested, the one she was told he wanted. The more she thought, the angrier and sadder she got, a vicious cycle that had not stopped since she rose from bed.

"You are simply inexperienced, My Lady," Plia shook her head, trying her hardest to be comforting but failing. "You need time to learn your lord and his needs. Once you two are more in tune, it will not be such an arduous process."

"Why do you say that with such sadness?" Isabella asked, taking in the heavy look in the aura's wide blue eyes.

"No reason, My Lady," Plia said, widening her smile as if that could distract Isabella from her eyes. All she succeeded in doing was raising Isabella's alarm further.

"You're lying to me," Isabella accused, hurt and confused as to why Plia was continually feeding her falsities.

Guilt was written all over the aura's face, fleeting panic poorly masked with a laugh and smile crossing her delicate features. Plia flew up from her seat, removing herself from Isabella's line of sight as she tried her best to busy herself.

"Rest, My Lady. What you need is rest," Plia insisted, scuttling around to fluff the pillows the throw back the sheets as if to make that cursed bed more inviting.

Reluctantly, Isabella did as the aura bid and reclined back in the bed, snatching the sheets away from her servant. The smile on Plia's face faltered, rippling into something akin to hurt before she backed away from the bed.

"I shall be back soon to check on you. If you need anything, just call."

Isabella nodded, though she had no intention of following through with that offer. She wanted the aura out of her sight, though she did not have the heart to dismiss her so offhandedly as the River God had the night before. She pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on top as she let her thoughts run wild. Her second day in this strange new land and she was already longing for the comforts of home. She detested her husband and resented Plia for being so closed off. It was obvious the aura was keeping things from her, though the reasons why were unknown. The secrets were driving her crazy, and though Isabella knew she was a stranger, an intruder who had yet to gain the right to know such things, she felt shunned being kept on the outside.

She was more than a shiny new fixture to display amongst the finery, and the way they kept her coop up like a trinket on a shelf made her mad. The fresh air blowing through the pillars was tantalizing, a torturous calling that she was not supposed to follow.

Isabella rose from the bed and walked out onto the balcony, the last remnants of sunshine sinking below the horizon, welcoming the dark indigo skies. Tilting her head back, she was treated to the most stars she had ever seen, each one lighting up the night in a brilliant white. They sparkled in unfamiliar patterns, some larger and brighter than others, all reflections dancing off of the still waters. The moon hung low in the sky, somehow so much closer than she remembered, as if this side of the river was closer to the cusp of the universe. She wondered how so much beauty could live in tandem to so much ugliness, and if all of the creatures in this land were like her husband: a beautiful veneer disguising the horrors underneath. She prayed this was not the truth. She would like to think the stars were pure, her one glimmer of hope, her one reprieve in this gold-gilded cage.

The night air nipped at her nose, letting her know that it was time to settle back in bed. Though the room was open, the pillars buffered some of the colder gusts, making the space warmer than the balcony. That, and a fire had been started since she had last been inside, Plia returning as she had promised no doubt. Isabella was only grateful that the aura had let her be. Perhaps she was not entirely insensitive.

Exhausted, Isabella discarded her slippers by her wardrobe and walked towards bed. Not that she expected rest to find her, but it was necessary to try. If she could not sleep, she would become even more despondent and delirious than she already was. Perhaps that was why she missed the visitor standing in the center of her room until she was at the foot of the bed, her only reason for looking up to pull back the sheets.

The River God startled her, causing her to jump back in shock. Her heart raced, now suddenly awake as she registered his presence. He looked no different than before, clad in the same blue robes and belt. His hands were tucked behind his back, his gaze studious and pensive. He spoke no words, lips pursed in a thin line. Isabella did not know what to do. She was stuck between grabbing the candle on the table next to her bed and throwing it at him, or crawling under the sheets and willing herself to disappear. Neither seemed likely to get her anywhere. The only other option remaining was to stay and talk.

"Have you come to visit my bed again?" Isabella asked warily, her voice wavering as she collected her layers close to her chest. She wished he did not insist on stepping so close, his presence sending pinpricks up her skin, her entire being alert.

"That depends... do you plan on crying and lashing out like a child?" the River God replied, his words scathing as if reprimanding her. His hand reached out to grasp her chin, a gesture Isabella flinched at but allowed. That did not stop her from averting her gaze, eyes fluttering closed as she was unable to look her husband in the eye.

"Only if My Lord hurts me again."

The River God hissed his displeasure, releasing her chin roughly and stomping back to the middle of the room. " _Pain_ , what a mortal sentiment."

"Mortal is what I am, or have you forgotten?" Isabella asked far too informally than was allowed. She knew she was treading a thin line, but she could not bring herself to be walked over and manipulated any further. "I feel pain, and loss, two emotions that have not left my side since arriving here, and you have only brought me more suffering. Now, I have fulfilled my duty and lied with you as your wife. I no longer owe you anything."

"You will not deny me forever," he growled, annoyed as he paced the same track of floor back and forth. "That is not part of our arrangement."

"I will deny you as long as I please," Isabella shot back defiantly.

She did not know from where this sudden need to rebel came, but it surged through her like wild fire, urging her to defend what she wanted, and what she wanted was to be left alone. The River God did not take kindly to the emotion. Not at all.

"Careful, child," he warned, his voice low and deadly. "Remember to whom it is you speak. If you defy me in such a manner again, there will be consequences."

"Then kill me," Isabella goaded, needing to know how far his cruelty could stretch, if he could truly lash out at the one he was bound to care for most. "Punish me as you please. Because I cannot live another day in this kind of agony."

" _Agony_?" The River God spat, his golden eyes filled with disbelief and outrage. "I have given you a seat of power, the luxuries of my home, granted you safe passage to a realm beyond what your mortal mind can comprehend and you dare to call this _agony?_ "

"You have stolen my innocence," Isabella argued back, unable to stop the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. "You ripped from me what was most sacred and you did not once stop to care."

"You lecture a god as to the meaning of the word _sacred_ ," the River God dismissed, seemingly blind to something that was important to her. "Your virtue is of no consequence."

"It is of _every_ consequence!" Isabella countered, fury bubbling up under her skin. "Your actions have tainted not only my heart but my soul. You have damaged me, My Lord, and now I cannot stomach the sight of you. Until that changes, if it ever does, you will find no solace in my bed. Go tend to your other wives."

The River God said nothing. He merely gazed at Isabella, eyes hard and face set in terse lines. He made no moves towards her, keeping a safe distance. In their silence Isabella swore she could see him yield, his resolve weaken by the smallest fraction. She tried her hardest to remain strong and steadfast. She held her breath, praying that her words had some effect and he was not plotting to overpower her. He could have his way with her if he wanted, possessing more than enough brute strength to push her down on the bed and pry her legs open. She tried not to let those thoughts take over, instead focusing on breathing.

 _Inhale, exhale,_ she repeated like a mantra while she watched him watch her. _Inhale, exhale._

A moment later, the River God turned his back and exited the room, the curtains billowing behind him. Isabella let out a shuddering breath, sinking to her knees on the floor, praying to every deity that was left in thanks. This was a small battle won, but a victory nonetheless. There would be more to fight - each night for the rest of her life, but every night she would come out the stronger. For her peace of mind, she was willing to win the war.


	4. The River Bank

A/N: There are no warnings for this chapter! Jacob will be making his appearance soon, though I cannot say who Bella will end up with. Don't take this to mean I think that rape is fine, because it is 100% vile and never fine, but this story is far from over and Isabella's relationships with both men will become quite complicated. But, what kind of storyteller would I be if I told you everything right now? Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter! I've been updating way faster than I usually do because my muse has struck, but I don't anticipate that lasting much longer, so be prepared for longer update times. Thanks for being awesome readers! XOXOX

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The River Bank

The morning light filtered through the balcony, and suddenly Isabella could not longer deny her soul the comfort it sought outside the marble walls.

She waited until Plia had left her at breakfast, telling the overbearing aura that she was going to spend the day getting to know her new home and that assistance was not needed. Content with the request, Plia let Isabella be, leaving her to her own devices. It was then when she took the stairs down to the open atrium and enjoyed her first taste of the outdoors since arriving. The sun tingled her skin, warmth seeping through her body. She walked further from the palace, enjoying the way the fresh air stretched her lungs. Though it filtered into her room daily, the air outside was different. It smelled like lavender and honey and was untainted by aurae.

The river acted like a beacon, a source of immense power calling her to the shore. Perhaps it was the River God. Perhaps she could finally see what he was up to while she stayed locked away, watch him turn in the tides and create the soothing push and pull of waves. She had so many questions about his role, her imagination soaring in a way that it had not been allowed since going away with the elders. Could he truly transform into water? Was the river a part of him or simply his domain? The Elders never seemed to know. Any answer as to what went on in this strange new land would be welcome.

There was also another calling, this one coming from the forest that bordered the palace grounds, filling the air with the earthy scents of dirt and sap. It was just as strong as the river, but not strong enough to deter her. Ignoring the forest, Isabella continued back down the path to the river bank. If she was not mistaken, the trees moaned as she ventured further away, as if lamenting that she did not choose to entertain them. She let out a small laugh. Surely it was the dryads luring her in for their chance to trick her, to get her lost in the bramble like the other wives. Or maybe it was some other creature with which she was not yet familiar. That was something to explore for another day.

Isabella sunk to her knees in the grass by the shallows, the ledge of the earth still high enough for there to be a need for her to bend to dip her fingers into the water. Surprisingly, it was cool to the touch despite the beating sun and sweltering heat. Peering further down, she found that the water at this depth was clear and glassy, allowing her to see straight down to the sandy bottom. Many colorful fish found their way into nearby pools, swimming through submerged fields of grasses and other aquatic life. There were none of the beasts Isabella had been told about, but maybe that was because they lived further out in deeper, darker waters. Her husband seemed the type to keep his demons locked away in places where she could not get to them, as he kept everything else.

Why he kept her from such serenity was a mystery. The shore was a peaceful place, the only disturbance coming in the form of an occasional breeze or call of a bird to break the silence. She saw none of the implied dangers, no reason to stay away. Her fingers danced idly across the surface, drawing fleeting patterns through the tension and drawing the attention of friendly fish. She wished she had brought something to feed them, though she had no idea what fish liked to eat.

One poked her finger and she giggled, only to have the poke turn into a tug which forced her to lean forward and come face to face with something that was definitely _not_ a fish.

Isabella squealed and pulled her hand out of the water, taken aback by the sight of two wide, blue eyes staring up at her through the water. The eyes batted up at her with long sparkling lashes surrounded pale luminescent skin. The creature's skin refracted like sun on the water's surface, nearly translucent like its hair. Delicate silvery scales were scattered about the creature's body, gills standing out in jagged contrast on its neck. The water spirit - _naiad_ , Isabella recalled - was not alone, a friend close at her heels, circling around the shallows gracefully.

"Pretty girl," one of the naiads said, voice bubbling with tiny pops of air.

"So pretty but so sad..." the other lamented dramatically as she swam from side to side, studying Isabella. "She does not wear it well."

"I am very lonely," Isabell admitted, jarred by their frankness.

"Yes - "

" - we can see that."

The way they finished each other's sentences was a bit unnerving. Isabella supposed she should not judge, that they might have a connection through the water that allowed them to be closer than most. Or more likely they were composed of water just as Plia was composed of air and the dryads were composed of tree. Were they the same as the naiads? Could Plia communicate with her sister aurae at all times? Was she gossiping about her, spreading word to her sisters while she worked? Was Isabella constantly being spied on? The thought sent chills down her spine, and for her own peace of mind, she cast it aside.

Suddenly, another thought occurred to her, an opportunity to get answers.

"I was actually looking for the other wives. You see, I'm the River God's new wife and his palace is far too empty," Isabella explained, hoping that would spark their loose lips into giving her some much-needed information.

"You will not find them in the palace," one tutted, shaking her watery head.

"There is only one place for wives to go," the other finished, though they remained frustratingly silent, their half-answer teasing.

"Where? Where are the others?" Isabella pressed, trying not to sound desperate though she was.

"We cannot say."

"The River God forbids it."

"But I am his wife. His is not the only word you must obey."

"You are flesh and bone - "

" - a mortal."

"You will never command us."

"I command the aurae," Isabella said with confidence, hoping that were true enough to hold some leverage over the naiads.

"Do you really?" one asked, eyes narrowed into slits, not convinced. She turned to the other and said, "I think she's lying."

"If she truly commanded the aurae, she would not come to us for answers," the other agreed, both now upset.

Isabella swallowed thickly, her plan now failed and her immediate future thrown in jeopardy. She could not remember all the powers of the naiads, if they had any outside of controlling their natural element, but in a rain of fury was not the way to discover them.

"Foolish mortal," the first one hissed, obviously upset. The naiad backed far away from Isabella, as if her presence was offensive. "We should drown her."

The sheer venom and sincerity in the words made Isabella's heart stop. Surely she had misheard. But no, the naiad was now pacing the distance in a more predatory fashion, scales glistening the sun. Her webbed hands were spread, sharp silver claws in the place where nails should be. Isabella assumed they would be powerful enough to slice through her effortlessly, latching onto her sensitive skin and dragging her down with ease.

"No, we cannot incur the River God's wrath," the other protested, the voice of reason Isabella was grateful for. "Insolent or no, she is still his wife."

"Not for long," the first taunted, swimming all the closer to the edge of where the river met the shore, creeping further and further to the surface where Isabella was. "I hear she has fallen out of his favor. Perhaps we would be doing our master a favor."

Needle-point fangs bared, the naiad lurched from the water, throwing her body up from the waves to lash out at Isabella. She closed her eyes, preparing herself for the impact of death.

An impact that never came, as a gust of wind pushed her sprawling back into the grass, acting as a barrier between herself and the naiad. Isabella watched as the naiad was thrust back into the water, graceful limbs now thrashing as the creature was caught off guard. It dissolved into the water, returning to swimming in predatory circles seething.

"Be gone vial spirits!" Plia hissed as she materialized, her gossamer hair billowing around her like snakes ready to lash out and strike the naiads where they swam.

Immediately, all the bravado the two nymphs had shown vanished, panic lacing their movements as they splashed out of the way of the aura's wrath. They swam off into the currents, letting the water guide them to safety. Isabella's heart still pounded in her ears, thinking of how close she had been to being dragged into the river with them. In the back of her mind, she knew the River God would not allow her to drown, that he was bound to her by ancient tradition, but that did not mean that he would not let her suffer first. She tried not to think too poorly of her husband, but it was impossible to think he was capable of any good from the actions she had witnessed.

Plia gripped Isabella's wrist far more tightly than she would have thought a spirit made of wind capable and yanked her up from the river bank. Plia had never been rough with Isabella before, but she was now, pulling her mortal mistress back to the palace like a child who needed reprimanding. They moved so quickly Isabella wondered if Plia was manipulating the air around them both so that they could reach the palace in better time.

Back in her room, Plia deposited Isabella on her bed, letting her mistress roll to the side before sitting up and gaining her footing. The rush was strange, not one Isabella was familiar with, so she decided yes, Plia was definitely manipulating the wind. In fact, the magic made her feel sick to her stomach, the contents sloshing about uncomfortably despite the fact that she had not eaten much that day. Isabella sat back down, one hand on her head, willing for the illness and the sudden pounding in her head and heart to subside.

"You gave me such a fright, My Lady," Plia chided, form flickering from humanoid to puffs of smoke, as if she were too high strung to stay in one place for long.

"I could say the same about you in this moment," Isabella replied softly, unsure how to handle her clearly distressed aura.

Plia had been a source of steady light, a calm to the overwhelmingness of this new world. Now, she seemed to be so full of nervous energy that Isabella was waiting for her to implode. The aura whirled about the room, absentmindedly straightening and dusting things that were already immaculate. Isabella had come to realize that cleaning was Plia's way of dealing with stress, and her heart tugged with guilt. She had not thought that her actions would upset Plia so much, and despite her roll as a comfortable, ignorant prisoner in this palace, Isabella felt indebted to the aura for her kindness. To run away without warning was not kind, even if it was necessary for her restless soul.

"I'm sorry my leaving caused you distress," Isabella apologized, hands fidgeting with the layers of her robes. "And thank you for saving me from the naiads. I owe you my life."

"I can't very well let you drown," Plia sniffed, running her hands over the crisp bedsheets. "The River God would never forgive me."

"No, we can't have that," Isabella agreed lightly, trying to lift the aura's spirit.

"I know it is not easy to stay inside, but please, don't go running off like that again," Plia implored. "There are creatures out in those lands that make the naiads seem harmless."

"I understand the risk but the longer I stay trapped inside, the more my soul dies," Isabella confided, desperate to have Plia bend the rules, if even by the tiniest fraction. "My balcony is like a tease, tormenting me with what I am not allowed to have and it drives me insane. You must understand this need to be free; you are the wind. What if you were trapped inside this palace, limited to its airspace for the rest of eternity? Would you not seek a way out?"

Plia's lips pressed into a firm line, her face contorted into something pensive and unreadable. A myriad of conflicting emotions flickered across her expressive eyes, ones that both sympathized with Isabella and others that remained set in her duties to the River God. Her movement slowed to a stop, body hovering above the tile as she thought and Isabella waited for her response with bated breath.

"Fine," Plia eventually conceded, words escaping from her mouth like a long-suffering sigh. "If you _must_ go out, try to stay within the confines of the gardens. The forest and the river can be unrelenting. At least in the gardens, there is some control."

Isabella was ecstatic "Thank you, Plia. You have given me a great deal."

"It is my duty to serve," Plia replied cordially, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips. A good start, Isabella decided.

The aura gave a small curtsey before leaving for the night, walking out the door instead of dissolving into smoke. The first time she left that way, it startled Isabella. She had no idea if Plia was still watching over her or if she had flown over to some other part of the place. Given the aura's inclination to attach herself to Isabella at all times, Isabella's first thought was that Plia was looking over her bed as she slept. Now, Plia made sure to remain in physical form for Isabella's own peace of mind.

She was nearly at the balcony, back turned to the rest of her room, when the door creaked.

"Back so soon?" Isabella replied playfully, thinking that Plia had returned to fix one last thing or give one last reminder as she was inclined to do.

However, when she turned around, it was not the aura with whom she was presented, but the River God. He stood a good distance away, hovering closely to the door as if deciding whether visiting was a good idea. He seemed less rigid than the other times she had seen him, less guarded if only by a fraction. Still, Isabella's heart started beating wildly, immediately drumming up enough energy to keep her alert and tuned to his every move.

"Not another step," Isabella said, her voice shaking though she willed herself to remain firm. Hopefully that strength would become second nature in time, that defying gods and immortal creatures would become part of her normal day instead of a constant threat to her life.

The River God stilled mid-pace, now only half the room away. He seemed put-off, though not as enraged as he had been the night before. Isabella suspected that he expected this kind of reception. "Do you reject me yet again?"

"My feelings about you have not changed," she confirmed, noticing the minute softness hardening once more in those golden eyes. "The fact that you have to ask means that you have not taken my words last night to heart."

"Never before have I had to endure such insolence."

"I am sorry to inconvenience you, My Lord. I suppose you will have to wait another year to find someone more accepting of your behaviors."

"Do not lecture me on the propriety of behaviors," the River God warned. "I sensed you on my shores earlier today though I instructed the aurae to keep you here. You went against their will - against _my_ will. Did you think I would not find out?"

"I was tired of staying inside, thought the fresh air would do me some good."

"Mortals rarely know what is good for them," he snapped back snidely.

Isabella kept her mouth shut even though it was hard not to lash out when her husband belittled her. She dared not mention Plia's gift of the gardens. She knew that if she spoke a word, she would not only have those privileges revoked, but get her aura in trouble. Plia had already had her fair share of trials today.

"The naiads told me of your inquiries," her husband continued, a thin smirk on his lips, as if he were amused, though Isabella knew better. She knew that the amusement was only there to mask his frustrations.

"I simply wanted to know - " she tried to explain, but was cut off.

"You know _nothing_ ," the River God cut her off, his gaze intense and dangerous, as if daring her to continue arguing this point. She had pushed him before but this was going too far. She feared that he might actually lash out, so she silenced herself though it hurt her pride to do so. After he had stepped back and calmed, the River God continued, "You are to stay out of my affairs and away from the river. I will not have my wife intruding into business that is not her own. Do I make myself clear?"

Isabella nodded, and the River God mirrored her movements, seemingly pleased for now. He stormed away with a swish of his blue robes, leaving her blissfully alone. Leaning against the pillar of the balcony and letting out a breath, she felt a newfound sense of peace and determination.

If anything, the River God's words only strengthened her resolve to return to the great outdoors.


	5. The Shapeshifter

A/N: No warnings for this one! Also, cue Jacob! Hope you all enjoy! XOXOX

* * *

The Shapeshifter

The garden was a luxury unlike any other.

While the rest of the palace was gilded in gold, standing tall with cold marble walls and ornate fixtures, the garden held a more natural beauty that Isabella found more appealing than the rigid one inside. Hedges rose like walls in labyrinthine structures, winding around various smaller pockets of flowers interspersed with fountains and gazebos for her to rest in the shade. In the garden, everything buzzed with life, from the insects to the flowers to the willows swaying in the breeze, reminding her that in this place, everything had sentience. Everything was connected, and she was now a part of that network.

Isabella ran her fingers across the soft, plush petals of hibiscus and lilies. She still had no idea how such different blooms grew together, but perhaps the answer was simply because the River God willed it.

Thinking on her husband, she let out a shuddering breath. She had not seen him at all last night, retiring in peace for the first time since arriving. Though she was grateful for the lack of anxiety, it made her wonder what he was doing instead. Were the naiads right? Had she truly fallen out of his favor? She knew they were not on the best of terms, but she could not help but worry about her position in the household. Would it have been a service to him to have her drowned, one less insolent being out of his affairs?

She shivered despite the heat, pulling her robes closer to her chest as she wandered along the gardens, trying to enjoy her free time and not ruin such a wonderful sanctuary with her fears.

Towards the back of the garden there was a small pavilion with ivy wrapping around marble columns, benches lining the inside of the domed structure. The ground changed from grass to a stoned path to the steps, the cool shade a relief from the sun. She liked exploring these hidden places, and though she had been searching all afternoon, she knew she had only scratched the surface of the vast grounds. What she liked most about this place was that it was, as far as she could tell, free of any kind of creature. The trees were just trees, the breeze just a breeze. She sat down on a bench, tilted her head back and sighed. For the first time, Isabella felt a sense of normality in this land of gods and monsters.

A howling noise infiltrated the serenity of the chirping birds and gurgling fountains. It was low and distant, like a whistle on the wind, but loud enough to pique Isabella's interest. Her head snapped up and she scanned the gardens for the source, not noticing until then how close she was to the perimeter. The manicured hedges gave way to the dense foliage of the forest, and Isabella's heart raced. She felt the same allure as the other day, the same presence drawing her in.

Getting up and making sure she wasn't being watched, Isabella walked back down the stone path into the grass, feeling it get denser the further she got to the perimeter. She walked along the hedges until she reached a break, a weeping willow swaying gently back and forth. The branches were easy to grasp, Isabella lifting them above her head, watching them fall behind her like a curtain. She did the same thing on the other side, crossing the barrier from the safety of the garden to the unknown of the forest.

Fleetingly, she wondered if her husband knew of this route outside of his domain, if Plia knew. If she did, then surely she would not let Isabella out unattended. Unless this was a test to see if she was trustworthy enough to be left without fear of flight, though that seemed rather intricate and far-fetched for Plia to concoct, and her husband did not pay her the time of day to care what she did. She would keep this route to herself, Isabella decided, forging forward.

As soon as she broke through the trees, the howling ceased and an enormous wolf broke through the trees, rearing back on powerful haunches, a small pouch wound around its neck. It was larger than most horses Isabella had cared for in the village, russet fur blowing in the breeze, large dark brown eyes studying her intently. She realized that the wolf was more than likely hungry, setting its sights on new, easy prey.

"Stay back!" Isabella commanded, trying to be strong. She looked for a stick, for something to ward off her attacker even though she knew that if the wolf wished, it could rip through her flesh like butter, white canines glistening.

The wolf paced back and forth for a moment longer before stretching out its long limbs. Like the dryads before, the sound of crackling, shifting parts echoed through the space. The wolf began to shrink, fur receding until there was nothing left than the exposed expanse of dark, tanned skin. Musculature rippled, the wolf's form becoming more human in nature. It stood on two legs, claws retracting into finger, ears flatting and tail vanishing. When the transformation was complete, Isabella came face to face with a man with long black hair interspersed with intricate braids and the same dark eyes as the wolf.

She immediately averted her gaze when she realized that this man who was not her husband was naked in front of her. She turned her back, a light masculine chuckle reaching her ears followed by the rustle of fabric. Isabella closed her eyes and counted to ten, breathing in and out before turning back around. Now, the man was dressed in layers of robes wrapped around his waist in a vibrant green, chiseled chest and broad, muscular shoulders still exposed. As she continued to stare, Isabella noticed a tattoo on his upper arm, a circle filled with looping shapes and symbols.

"You are no creature with whom I am familiar," Isabella stated with trepidation, not sure if this visitor was friend or foe.

"That is because I am no creature," the man replied cordially, moving across the forest floor with far more grace than any creature Isabella had seen so far. The branches and thorns moved out of his way, creating safe passage right to where she was standing. He stopped a safe distance away, and Isabella appreciated the gesture.

"You are a god?" she guessed, the only remaining option for someone with such obvious power.

He nodded and gestured to the greenery around them. "My brothers and I are the lords of this forest; these trees are my domain, and you, fair lady, are something unexpected."

"Forgive me, I meant you no disrespect," Isabella immediately apologized, dropping into a low curtsey.

She cursed herself for being so naive. Of course the River God was not the only immortal to walk the shores of this land. She had been so withdrawn from the world around her that she had forgotten her place, and now she had surely offended the Forest God.

"You have granted me nothing other than curiosity," the god said with a kindly smile, so much more inviting than her husband's glares. "You were searching for the dryads - an interesting request. Not many take kindly to them, and they take kindly to even fewer."

"They helped me find the way to the River God's palace. I wanted to pay my respects."

"Then they must see something in you worth admiring," he explained, though his expression was now perplexed. "You are the River God's wife?"

Isabella nodded.

"It has been centuries since one of you has dared to leave the sanctity of the palace," he hummed, seemingly both surprised and amused. "What ever spurred this act of rebellion?"

"I could not stand another moment inside that cage," she answered honestly, hoping that she was not making some terrible mistake in confiding to another god about her husband.

"The more you speak, the more fascinating you become..." he trailed off, eyes sparkling playfully. "May I inquire after your name?"

"Isabella."

"Isabella," he rolled her name off his lips, caressed in a deep timber causing something to stir in her soul. She loved the way he spoke her name, as if it were something awe-inspiring, something to be revered. "My name is Jacob."

For a moment, Isabella was shocked into stillness, caught off guard by the Forest God's behavior. It was unexpected and strange, especially since everyone else she had met in this new land was guarded and secretive about practically everything. Then this god comes along and breaks down all expected formalities and approaches her as an equal...it was a jarring difference, making her wonder if there was actually good in this mystical place.

She must have hesitated for too long, for Jacob's brow furrowed concernedly. "What is it? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, not at all," Isabella was quick to assure, heart leaping to her throat in hopes that she did not upset the god. "It is just...I am not used to being so familiar with immortals. It seems wrong given that I am a mere human."

"Are you not familiar with your husband?" the Forest God asked, one dark eyebrow arched in confusion.

Isabella shook her head slowly, swallowing thickly. "My Lord and I are not yet that well acquainted."

" _Your Lord_ ," the Forest God mused, his gaze darkening in distaste as he repeated her expression. "A woman of your magnitude should not be lorded over by anyone, immortal or no. If you were my wife, I would place you on a dais and name you Queen."

"You flatter me," Isabella blushed at the passion of his words, tucking a stray strand of dark hair behind her ear as she averted her gaze. Some part of her mind knew that this god was flirting with her, seducing her even, but the lingering juvenile, girlish part of her basked in the affection she had been starved of.

"I only speak the truth," he replied in that low timbre that made her skin prickle. "You are the most exquisite creature I have laid eyes on in centuries."

"You live in a forest full of exquisite creatures. The dryads, the animals..." Isabella insisted as she tried to draw the focus off of herself, his compliments starting to become overwhelming.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," Jacob insisted with an easy smile. "I see the dryads and the animals every day. I have not laid eyes upon someone from the other side in quite some time, and none of them were as alluring as you, Isabella."

And there it was, that damning use of her name that made her heart jump. The fact that he had such immediate power over her emotions was concerning. That she felt so strongly towards a god who was both a stranger and a man who was not her husband was wrong. The dutiful side of her mind, the one that understood the implications of breaking her vow and angering the River God, screamed to step away, to leave the forest and never return. But the human, emotional side of her brain told her to stay and chase this newfound feeling of giddiness, to pursue what made her happy.

In the end, her rational side won, the need to remain set on her course to save her village overpowering any irrational, emotional want. She vowed to set aside her own wants for the sake of those she loved most across the river, and she intended to keep that vow no matter the personal cost.

"While I am grateful for your high opinion of me, I think it is best if we part ways," Isabella said, taking a step back towards the familiarity of the garden. It was not until that moment, looking over her shoulder, that she realized how far out she had ventured. The garden was only barely visible through the patch of dense branches, the path smoothed over yet covered with ivy and leaves.

"Is that really what you think is best?" Jacob asked, not indignantly, but honestly. He had one eyebrow arched, his expression neutral but open, as if genuinely curious.

Isabella struggled with the right words. In her heart of hearts, she knew that the River God and his palace were not what was best for her or her sanity, but it was all she had. The unknown of the forest and the dangers of the river terrified her and would not bring her any benefit either, but there was a lingering thrill of a fantasy stewing in her mind where Jacob took her by the hand and whisked her into the forest where she could further bask in his mellow presence.

"I hear your words yet something prevents you from returning to the palace," Jacob cut through Isabella's daydreams, drawing her back to the present.

"This place is foreign to me. The palace is the only thing I know, but that does not mean I love it," Isabella answered honestly.

"But you do not know it either," Jacob commented, piquing Isabella's interest on how he knew so much.

"How - "

"These tress have ears, and you, Isabella, caused quite the scene with the naiads the other day."

Isabella flushed as that embarrassing moment was brought back. She had assumed that Plia would be the only one to witness her failed bravado, but, judging by the way Jacob's smile curled as if poking fun at her, apparently the whole forest knew. This was _perfect_.

"There is no need to feel shame. Dryads can be terrible gossips, as can most nymphs. I am sure the story was highly exaggerated by the time it reached my ears. You want answers about this place. I can give them to you," Jacob stated, an intensity to his words that had been absent the entire conversation. "Meet me here tomorrow, the same time as today, and I will tell you everything you wish to know."

Isabella barely had time to nod before the Forest God shifted back into a wolf and disappeared into the brush.

* * *

Talking with Jacob had distracted Isabella immensely, as the sun was setting when she finally returned to the palace. It was nearly time for dinner, and Isabella could feel her stomach knotting, demanding food to relieve a hunger she had not noticed before.

"Been out in the gardens all day again My Lady?" Plia asked, her voice strung with tension as she flittered about the room. "Your clothes smell of wet earth."

"Yes," she confirmed, stripping of her outermost robe, depositing the gauzy fabric on the immaculate bed. "Plia, would you mind drawing me a bath? I can feel the dirt sticking to my skin."

"Of course," Plia curtsey and flittered off to collect fresh water for the bath. She looked behind her once more, as if to assure herself that Isabella was still there and was not going to leave, before exiting the room.

Isabella knew that even though Plia granted her the rights to roam free, that it must still be uncomfortable for the aura to let her go unattended. Every part of Plia's existence must have been fighting the urge to keep her inside. That made Isabella all the more grateful for Plia's kindness. She knew it must not have been easy to go against the River God's word. If they got caught, it would be Plia who paid the price. At least, that is what Isabella assumed given that any honorable man would not strike down his wife. But then again, the River God had not proven himself to be the most honorable even if he had heeded Isabella's word and stayed away from her bed.

Soon, the bath was full and Isabella sunk into the warm water, enjoying the way it loosened her worn muscles. Plia poured in different oils of lavender and aloe, the scents mixing and soothing her further. The aura started combing through Isabella's wet hair, pulling through the knots the locks had made through the day.

While she was being pampered, Isabella's thoughts lingered over her eventful day. From searching for the dryads to finding the wolf-forest-god, she had gathered more questions than had been answered. Jacob had offered her knowledge at the expense of meeting again, an offer both enticing and terrifying. He had seemed harmless enough, respecting her boundaries and giving information as equally as he took it. For the first time since arriving across the river, Isabella felt like she had found an ally. Not that she would dare voice that thought to Plia, who would be hurt by it, but Plia was not always as transparent as her airy nature. She was keeping the River God's secrets, and that alone was enough to warrant suspicion from Isabella.

Still, Plia was knowledgeable, and completely at Isabella's disposal, which meant she could always try.

"Plia, what other creatures live around these parts?" Isabella asked, hopeful for some sort of intelligent response.

"Well, you have already met the dryads and the water nymphs, and of course, the aurae - " Plia started to rattled off, but Isabella held her hand out to silence her maid before she got too far ahead of herself.

"No, I mean...what other immortals? Gods?"

Plia's face went still with shock, unprepared for the inquiry. A moment passed and her expression evened out, the aura clearing her throat before presenting an answer.

"Not many live this close to the shore, save the Shapeshifters."

"Shapeshifters?"

"Godlings - children of the forest nymphs or even the great Mother Earth herself. They can assume the form of any woodland creature, though they prefer to appear as wolves," Plia explained, though her tone expressed that she was not fond of these immortals. "For years they have skirmished with the River God along the borders of the woodlands and the river bank. They are his sworn enemies."

"Why?" Isabella gasped, not expecting such violence to occur in a place of paradise. Jacob, though ferocious in wolf form, was so compassionate in human form. Though she had only spent a few moments with the forest god, she could not see him engaging in war. Her husband, on the other hand, she could see jumping to war in a heartbeat.

"Many years ago, a Shapeshifter stole one of the River God's wives and whisked her away to the forest. She was never returned, and it devastated him," Plia said, melancholy lacing her voice while Isabella's eyes widened in shock. "But you needn't worry about them My Lady. You are safe so long as you stay inside these walls."

Isabella slumped down against the rim of the tub, allowing this new information to be absorbed. The tale seemed so ridiculous, so scandalous that it was hard to believe. But the normally-positive Plia was radiating animosity and the River God was so possessive, so intent on keeping Isabella locked up...what other reason could there be other than fear of losing another wife?

"Thank you for letting me know," Isabella said, her mind working furiously to reconcile the interaction she had with the kindly god earlier in the day with the information she now knew.

"Why do you ask?" Plia inquired, brow drawn in suspicion.

"Just curious," Isabella dismissed, trying not to let on that anything had happened. If she let Plia know that a Shapeshifter approached her then her garden privileges would be revoked, and Isabella would rather die than be locked inside again.

"That curiosity of yours is insatiable. It will get you in trouble one day," Plia chided, though her expression eased back into a smile.

"That's what the Elders told me, but I just can't seem to stop it," Isabella joked, trying to muster a laugh for Plia's sake. Thankfully, it worked and Plia giggled, helping Isabella up and out of the tub to dry off.

The aura helped Isabella into a set of fine peachy robes. They were far more formal than the white ones Isabella normally wore, but Plia was insistent to dress her up for dinner just in case the River God decided to show up. So far he had yet to make an appearance, causing Isabella to wonder if he ate at all, or if that was another mortal necessity that he deigned himself above.

That evening, as she sat alone amongst a banquet set for a dozen, she wondered if her future held more in store than solitude.


	6. The Question

A/N: Hello loves! Just two quick things I wanted to say (I'll start with the bad first to end on a high note): if you don't want to see more Jacob, then leave. I'm not forcing you to read something you don't like, but Jacob is a main character along with Edward and Bella, so he's not going away any time soon. If you don't want to read through Jacob-centric chapters because he's not your cup of tea, then you don't have to. Unfollow/fave - it won't hurt my feelings. Just don't post your "OMG I hate Jacob so much and I won't read if they end up together" messages in the reviews because I can guarantee you will be getting a not-so-nice message back from me. I know this because I've already given out a few. Sorry to be so blunt but it's been grinding on my nerves for a while now, and it makes me sad that I spend all this time crafting an intricate fantasy world and all some people want to do is complain about Jacob.

In contrast, very recently there has been an outpouring of love to this story which warms my heart! To those readers who give thoughtful reviews, you are my real loves. Your kind words always make my day! Also, thanks a million to those who have recommended this story on various platforms! I appreciate you immensely and recognize that I would not be where I am now without you and the support of the Twilight community :)

On that note, there are no warnings for this one (unless you count Jacob being a trigger - which I am discovering he is for some)! Hope you all enjoy! XOXOX

* * *

The Question

Isabella had two choices when she woke from her slumber.

She could either choose to stay inside for once and act as the obedient wife she had yet to be, or she could gather the courage to meet Jacob and confront him with all she had learned. It was a loaded choice. If she chose to stay inside, then there was no telling if the River God would make an appearance, something she was trying to stave off for as long as possible. If she chose to go to the garden, Jacob could kidnap her and take her away to the forest where no one would ever find her again. Leave it to her overactive imagination to jump to the worst case scenario, but if what Plia said was true, then it was a very real one.

One thing was for certain: she would get no satisfaction from lying in bed all day. She would only prolong her misery and her curiosity. Her father had always told her to chase what she wanted, to be direct and not stumble with her requests, as there was nothing more infuriating than someone who refused to act. Perhaps that was why he was a knight. Perhaps that was why he pushed her to accept being a bride. Those were not thoughts she wanted to dwell on, so she pulled back the covers and had Plia dress her for the day.

Gathering her mettle, she made her way out to the garden, retracing familiar steps through the sprawling shrubbery until she reached the willow. Pulling the curtains of green aside, she walked into the forest, its warm, earthly feel permeating the air. This time she could not stop to enjoy it, her dark eyes searching through the bramble for the visitor she knew would arrive any moment. All it took was a minute, perhaps less, for the wolf to arrive, shifting effortlessly into a man before her very eyes. It was jarring to watch the transformation; no matter that she had seen it before, it was just as alarming.

Jacob strode up, a smile on his face. He was going to greet her, mouth opened to speak, when Isabella cut him off.

"Have you come to steal me away?" Isabella accused, making sure to keep her distance. Though she supposed that he could sprint over and scoop her up with minimal effort if he really wanted. The space made her feel safer, an illusion of control that was enough to keep her levelheaded.

"I do not understand," Jacob's smile faltered, a frown pulling at his lips. "What has happened to tarnish your opinion of me so quickly?"

"My aura, she told me what your kind did to the other wife. That one of them spirited her away to the forest," she accused.

"Aurae are taught to hate my kind. Whatever she told you, heed with caution," Jacob warned.

"She called your kind tricksters," Isabella continued irregardless of Jacob's comments. He could be telling the truth or he could be saying anything to sway her to his side. It was too soon to say.

"I assume she would, as she serves the River God."

"Your enemy."

"A harsh word," Jacob countered with a flinch, frown deepening. He was seemingly unaffected by this line of questioning, only confused and...was that hurt Isabella saw in those deep dark eyes? It made her feel bad, heart twisting in her chest that she could be accusing and innocent man, and a god at that.

"Are you done with your accusations?" Jacob asked, eyes searching Isabella's for a sign of truce. Isabella nodded curtly, not willing to give him any leeway until she had all the information laid in front of her. "What I tell you now is true. Yes, centuries ago one of my brothers absconded with one of your husband's wives, but what your aura failed to mention was that they were in love. She chose to run away with my brother and never looked back."

"Why would she do that?"

"You are in her shoes. You tell me why she would run away from the River God," Jacob said, and that struck a cord with Isabella. From her own experience, there were a million reasons for a girl to run from this place as fast as she could, and if this wife was brave enough to take the chance, Isabella could not blame her. Isabella was even a tad jealous that the wife had found something worth running for in this treacherous place. Isabella kept her mouth closed though, not voicing any of this to Jacob, but he read enough of an answer into her silence. "As I thought. Besides, it is not as if she wished to cause the River God such distress and incite war. My brother imprinted upon her. There was nothing any of us could do."

"Imprint?" Isabella asked, confused once more.

"My kind imprint upon those with whom they are destined to be," Jacob explained. "It is a connection sealed into an unbreakable bond that transcends all natural and immortal laws. Even if the River God wanted, he could not reclaim his wife from an imprint."

"Then why the fighting?"

"Vengeance? Anger? For the sheer fact that he could?" Jacob guessed, having no real answer himself. "The River God blamed all of us for the act of our brother, lashing out at every shapeshifter who came within a certain distance of what he perceived as his territory. He pushed us from the coast towards the inland, stripping us of land and hunting ground, and we could not fight back against his power."

"I am sorry that my husband caused you such pain, My Lord," Isabella apologized, feeling horridly that she had gotten things so wrong and no doubt rubbed salt in a very old wound.

"The fault is not yours," Jacob said sagely, still frowning. "Why did you not call me by my name?"

"Because I assumed that I had lost the right," Isabella said, ducking her head ashamedly. She had abused her right to be familiar with him. He had approached her with genuine kindness and she had repaid him with accusations and harsh words. She was lucky he had not lost him temper and taken her head off. It would serve her right.

"Dear Isabella," Jacob said warmly, his smile returning. "Gods argue just the same as mortals. A simple disagreement does not mean that you have lost my favor and I have revoked the privileges of our friendship."

"Friendship?" Isabella asked tentatively, taken by surprise. She had yet to meet a creature on this side of the river so forgiving or compassionate. She could hardly believe it.

"Is that fine?"

"Yes," Isabella agreed, smiling widely. "More than fine."

Her heart felt at peace, the tension between them dissipating as they resolved their quarrel. Jacob took a step closer so that he was by Isabella's side and she allowed it. Together, they sat against the low limb of a tree, though there was still a respectable amount of space between them.

"Now that we have settled our qualms, I believe you have questions that I promised to answer," Jacob started, sitting with his legs crossed, facing her expectantly.

"The wife that your brother absconded with..." Isabella started, fidgeting with her hands to capture her nervous energy. "How long has it been since she left the palace?"

"You mean, how many wives has the River God taken since her leave?"

Isabella nodded, feeling foolish that Jacob was able to discern her true meaning so easily.

"It has been nearly a century since my brother and his beloved first met."

"This makes no sense..." Isabella whispered furiously to herself, confusing Jacob who had still managed to overhear.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"If what you say is true, then that means there should be nearly a hundred wives living on this side of the river, yet I am the only one in the palace."

She looked at Jacob, hoping he would be able to shed some light upon the subject. Unfortunately, he seemed just as perplexed as she, his brow furrowing.

"I am sorry, Isabella, but on that subject, I cannot give you the information you seek," Jacob apologized, looking hurt that he could not give her what she desired. "But do not be dismayed. I know someone who may be of assistance."

"Really? Who?"

"The wife."

"She still lives?" Isabella asked, struck dumb at the thought of a woman living to such an impossible age. Most people from her village never got to see their first grey hairs, which was why the Elders were such an important part of society. If this wife was still alive, then she would be well into her white haired years, shriveled and crumpled into herself, a vision Isabella could scarcely imagine.

"When my brother took her as his own, he bestowed upon her the gift of immortality."

"Gods can willingly grant immortality?"

"To a degree, and only with the blessings of those who preside above."

"Above?" Isabella questioned, her mind spinning. "What is above a god?"

Jacob chuckled. "Oh, sweet Isabella...you still have much to learn about this place."

His laughter seemed genuine, but there was an amused edge to it that made Isabella's cheeks go red with embarrassment, as if she were a pet who had done something ignorant yet adorable. Though she could not deny that there was a truth to that; she was ignorant of the world around her, clearly even more so than she realized.

"Where is the wife? Can you take me to her?" Isabella asked, pressing forward.

"With pleasure," Jacob acquiesced, turning to face the vast expanse of dense woodland. "Though you first must be willing to journey with me through the forest. She lies on the other side with the rest of my tribe."

Isabella's heart skipped a beat before her pulse picked up to a gallop. The trees rustled and whispered with the wind, their lively normal dance drawing her in and deterring her at the same time. All she had wanted was answers, but now when faced with the opportunity to both escape the River God and discover the truth, she was at a stand still. Her feet would not move, her mouth would not work. There were too many possibilities up in the air: the unknown that lied ahead with Jacob, or the sterile familiarity and relative safety of the palace. It was too much, if she were to be honest.

"I think I have had enough excitement for one day," Isabella declined, scarcely believing the words escaping her own mouth, even when her chest released its vice grip on her heart when it realized that she was not going to go galavanting off with a shapeshifter.

"You do not wish to find the answers you seek?" Jacob asked, perplexed as to her reasoning for denying the very thing for which she sought him.

"Do not take this the wrong way, as you have been nothing but kind and generous to me, but I - "

"- are not yet desperate enough to venture into the unknown alongside a god with whom you are barely acquainted?" Jacob concluded, taking Isabella's flushing cheeks as an affirmative. He smiled gently. "I take no offense to your fears, Isabella. I do not blame you for being skeptical of this world. From the little you have shared, I assume your experience here has not been the best."

Isabella nodded. "Thank you, Jacob."

It was always surprising to her how accepting he was, how he never grew to resent her for her decisions as her husband did. It was not that Isabella was not appreciative of his willingness to help, it was that things were simply moving too fast. She was not ready to take such a large leap of faith. Perhaps with more time her feelings about the journey would change, but for now, this was a mystery she would continue to track on her own.

"Just promise one thing," Jacob said with sudden intensity, distorting the light mood they had established. "Do not dawdle in your search for the truth. This world can be a cruel one, and if you feel as though your life is in danger, as I sense that you do, then do not hesitate. I would hate to see you hurt and it be my hand that led you down that dark road."

"I promise," Isabella swore with sincerity. Jacob did not need to worry; Isabella was not afraid to run if her life was in danger. She was going to protect herself, and when she found them, the other wives as well. "Now, I believe I have been gone long enough."

"As you wish," Jacob conceded. He reached into the pocket of his green robes, pulling out a small instrument. He handed it too her, the brown wood warm to the touch. Laid out in her palm, she saw that it was a small whistle engraved with intricate carvings similar to the markings on Jacob's tattoo. "Use this should you wish to find me, or if you change your mind. I shall always answer."

"I truly appreciate that," Isabella said, placing the whistle in her own pocket. "Thank you, again. Out of all the creatures on this side of the river, you are the only one I can trust."

"I hope to prove myself worthy of that trust," Jacob replied as he nodded towards the horizon. "The sun is setting. You should be getting back to the palace before you husband takes notice."

Isabella nodded, knowing Jacob was right. She stared at the sun and sighed, hating to see it disappear. The night always brought a sensation of dread, a looming feeling of captivity, trapped inside the palace with her husband and no proper means of escape. She dreaded the night, though a night in the forest seemed just as treacherous. Though not as much so if she had Jacob on her side. At that thought, she smiled.

"Ah, if only we could stay in this moment forever," she lamented.

A silly statement, one she fully expected to glean a laugh from, but instead was only granted silence. Turning around, she expected to see a tall man with tan skin and dark braided hair.

But Jacob was already gone.

* * *

The sun was low in the sky when Isabella was finally dressed for dinner. Plia still insisted that she dress her best, hair and face made up to heighten her beauty, robes of peach-colored silk resting gently against her ever-darkening skin. Isabella saw no point in the finery. There was no one to dress up for, no reason to go to such lengths.

That was, until she walked into the dining room to find that this night, she was not alone.

The dining table was set up differently, candles and flowers scattered across the center instead of the usual array of dishes. Instead, there were two silver plates placed at adjacent seats piled with colorful foods. The space was quiet, the usual gossip of the aurae filtering down from above stifled. And there, sat in his chair, was the River God. His eyes scanned her up and down, assessing her appearance approvingly which made Isabella's pink cheeks flush uncomfortably.

"My Lord, what a surprise," Isabella said, trying to hide her increasing panic with feigned politeness. "What brings you away from the river?"

He was always gone during the day, not retuning until nightfall when the tides had turned in until morning. He had stopped showing interest in visiting her bed and she had grown used to not seeing him at all. To see him now, in his blue robes seated at the head of the dining table, was something entirely unexpected and, quite frankly, unwanted. However, he made no move to get closer, did not even stand to greet her, and so her heart settled. He was not going to touch her, at least his body language said so. Isabella was safe for now.

"It has dawned on me that if we are to live out our days together, then I should at least put in some small effort to get to know my wife."

It was a harmless statement, one that Isabella would have appreciated if he had said as much the first day she arrived. Perhaps, if she had not yet seen the monster inside, she would have been inclined to think he was capable of sweetness. But she knew her husband too well to take his word on face value. There was some other motive lingering behind his casual demeanor. There was something else he wanted, perhaps a place back in her bed, and her stomach turned.

She approached the table apprehensively, taking the furthest seat away from her husband at the opposite end of the table. The River God did not fail to notice her choice, a thinly veiled frown pulling at his lips.

"How generous of you it is to spare your precious time with a lowly mortal such as myself," Isabella said as sat down, her chair pulling out and scooting in automatically, the other silver plate moving down to where she sat. The work of the aurae no doubt. There was no mistaking the edge to her voice, the hurt that lingered there.

"Isabella I come here in peace," the River God sighed, as if he had to lecture a child throwing a tantrum. He looked at her in a disgruntled manner, as if she were vexing him with her immaturity. "Your insolence will only wither the olive branch I now extend to you."

The word insolence made Isabella's blood boil, the anger she was trying to tamper flaring in full force. She did not consider guarding her heart and body from another attack to be insolence. She did not consider her wariness of her husband after the pain in inflicted on her to be insolence.

"And what ever possessed you to think that I would accept?" she snapped, unable to talk civilly when he was scolding her for the repercussions of his actions.

The River God lowered his utensils and pushed his meal aside, giving her his full, annoyed attention.

"Are you suggesting that you wish to remain at odds?" The River God asked, his voice thin and clipped.

The direction of this conversation was spiraling downwards, but Isabella had no intention of saving this sinking ship. If he was going to play with her emotions, then she was going to make him regret it, consequences of angering a god be damned. She was so tired of bowing down to this man, of rolling over and accepting his abuse. All her life she was taught to worship the River God; all her life she was told to be a respectful, obedient wife. Well, the River God was not worthy of such respect. He was not worthy of her or her kindness, and she was going to make that known.

"I am suggesting that until a genuine act of kindness is shown, until I receive an apology for what you have done to me, then I cannot stand to be in your company."

The River God looked taken aback, golden eyes wide with shock. Whether that was a reaction to her insolence or the fact that he was being continually rejected for what Isabella assumed to be the first time in his very long life, she could not say. She could not discern the emotions running across his face, the usual stone mask caught off guard. Then, he rose from his seat, blue robes snapping at his ankles as he made his way to the door.

"You are just going to leave?" Isabella asked incredulously. "Just like that?"

The River God stiffened, his back to her. "You have made yourself clear that I repulse you. I do not wish to subject you to my presence any more."

"You're not going to apologize?"

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes. For a second, she had thought she was making leeway, breaking through the man underneath the monster. But she was wrong. When he turned back her way, his golden eyes were crackling with something dark and dangerous. He had caged his momentary weakness, shoving it into the dark hole in his chest where she was certain a heart did not reside.

"I am a god. I do not have to apologize to a mortal for anything."

His words pierced her heart like nails in a coffin. She staved off the urge to cry. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her tears.

"I am not just any mortal," Isabella protested. "I am your _wife_. Does that count for nothing?"

The River God did not reply. He only furthered his path towards the door, her words falling on deaf ears.

"Do you want me to hate you?" Isabella shouted after him, desperately clamoring for and then throwing a goblet of wine where her husband's body once stood. But he was gone, vanished from sight, and Isabella slumped back down into her chair and sobbed.

Why was he so spiteful? Why did he have to hurt her constantly? And more than that, why did he try to so hard to do so? His words, how callous they were, and his vitriolic stares, they seemed so purposeful, as if he wanted to tear her down. Ever since Plia had told her about the stolen wife, Isabella had the impression that the River God just pushed everyone away in order to protect his heart. But this was a whole new level of cruel. Perhaps there was something else going on, more to the story she did not yet know. Or perhaps he was truly a sadist who thought her lesser than dirt and that it was fine to treat her as such.

No matter the reason it did not change how Isabella felt, how her heart sank in her chest every time she laid eyes on her husband. Every time he walked into the room, she wondered what abuse she would suffer and if one day it would ever cease, if they would learn to live in quiet silence, away from one another. At least then, Isabella could have peace of mind.

And she would not be truly alone. She would have Plia and Jacob, two friends in a world that saw fit to destroy every last vestige of her kind heart.


	7. The Accident

A/N: Exciting times ahead! In this chapter, Assward becomes less of an ass (and there is no Jacob)! There are no warnings for this one. Hope you loves enjoy! XOXOX!

* * *

The Accident

The next morning, Isabella woke up with new resolve.

While Isabella had been wary before about taking Jacob up on his offer, now her decision was more sound. Her interaction with the River God last evening was a reminder of what was in store for her here for the rest of her life. She could not go on living in such animosity or hatred would surely eat her alive. If the past wife was brave enough to forge her own path, it had to be for good reason. She must have been far stronger than Isabella to run from such constant abuse and these oppressive marble walls. From the way Jacob spoke, she had received a loving spouse who cared for her wellbeing and kept her safe. Perhaps life in the forest with the Shapeshifters was indeed a better one.

Her only problem was getting rid of Plia.

The overbearing aura had decided to join Isabella on her walk through the gardens today, even despite Isabella's multiple protests that she did not require a chaperone. Plia seemed to have other ideas, the wind spirit fussing about the Shapeshifters and how worried she had been for Isabella's safety since finding out they had spoken. Of course, she didn't want to worry her master, so the next logical step was to take things into her own hands. And while Isabella was grateful that Plia's fear of upsetting her husband had kept Jacob a secret, that did not mean that she wanted Plia become her constant guardian. Despite what everyone on this side of the river seemed to think, Isabella could, in fact, take care of herself.

While Plia blathered on about the benefit of wearing a sunhat, Isabella overturned the whistle in her palm, mind made up. She would ditch Plia, call on Jacob, ask him to take her to the other wife, and once she heard the woman's testimony, then she would make her decision.

The path through the garden seemed longer this time, as if the weight of her actions were slowing her travels. It were as though the gardens were fighting her, urging her to stay in this beautiful prison. They did not know that she was a free spirit, not one to be chained for long. She would regain her independence, and if this was how then she would do it.

However, the gardens threw the ultimate barrier in her way: her husband.

She stopped short, sandals skittering on the grey stone path while Plia let out a surprised squeak as they recognized the River God. He stood in the center of the gazebo as he admired the roses that grew in the bushes right in front of the willow she usually passed through to get to the woods. The wind ruffled his russet hair, the blue of his robes snapping around his feet as he turned and came to approach. In the light of day, he almost seemed to sparkle, the sun reflecting off his pale skin. It was strange he maintained such a milky pallor despite the constant sun; even her creamy complexion had grown dark in this short time.

"My Lord," Isabella nodded curtly in respect, making sure to maintain her distance and a stony expression. "What business brings you away from the river?"

"Am I not allowed a walk in the garden with my own wife?"

The River God extended his arm for her to take, but all Isabella did was stare. His fickle desires gave Isabella whiplash. It was just last night when he was treating her like dirt, calling her mortal and her wishes inconsequential. Now, he wished to court her? It made no sense, and Isabella had no mind to trust his intentions at surface level.

"I thought I made my wishes clear at dinner," she replied cooly, ignoring his arm and instead crossing hers over her chest. It was an act of defiance - a simple one, but the only she dared risk. His golden eyes flared, tell-tale temper rising.

"Leave us," the River God snapped in Plia's direction. It made Isabella irrationally angry how quickly her aura followed his wishes even after he had degraded her, disappearing in a poof of smoke.

"Her name is Plia," Isabella noted. "If you are going to assume control over my aura, you should at least have the decency to use her name."

"Do not start this again," he replied, tiredness etched into every line on his face. "And do not instruct me on how to treat my servants."

"They aren't only yours, they are - "

"Yes, yes they are yours as well," The Riven God dismissed with a wave of his hand, glancing at her ruefully. "How did that arrogance fare for you with the naiads?"

Isabella swallowed thickly, fear trickling in as she remembered her brush with death. The River God wasn't even there. He had no means to know what had happened, and she doubted that Plia would risk telling her master about an attempt on Isabella's life if the aura was afraid to even mention the Shapeshifters.

"H-how do you - "

"Everything here is under my control. _Everything_ ," he repeated intensely, staring her down. "Except you."

"And that drives you mad, does it?" Isabella concluded, finally getting somewhere. This was as close to an actual answer as she had ever gotten before, a tiny glimpse into her husband's rationale as to why he seemed to despise her.

"More than words can convey."

 _Interesting, very interesting,_ Isabella mused. She had never thought herself maddening, perhaps just a nuisance. To think that her small acts of defiance, her assertion of her own sense of self had driven him to frustration was both curious and satisfying. She would continue to fight so long as she had breath in her body and if that caused an inconvenience in his perfect world then so be it.

"Listen to me now," she demanded, anger flaring through her soul. "It was not _my_ choice to be shipped over to this side of the river. It was not _my_ choice to be ripped away from all I know and love to be married to a brute who I cannot not stand. None of this was my choice, and if you blame me for this arrangement, _My Lord_ , then your ignorance deserves to be tormented."

The River God was stunned, mouth open and gaping. Isabella was sure no god or mortal had dared be so bold, but she did not stay to enjoy the spoils (or face the consequences) of such an outburst. She quickly turned on her heels and took off through the gardens, running as fast as her feet could carry.

"Isabella, come back," The River God demanded, shouting across the hedges. "Isabella stop!"

She only ran faster, in what direction it did not matter so long as her feet carried her far away from the monster she was married to. She hated him! She had never loathed a person so much as the River God. She loathed everything about him, from his oppressive nature to his demeaning words to the way he looked at her as if she were some sort of object to trifle with. She just wanted this to end, to be free from him and his command.

The gardens twisted and turned, an endless labyrinth to run through. She had no idea where she was going, only that she should have made it out by now. Casting a glance behind her, she saw the River God closing in. The panic at being caught only increased her speed.

"Isabella, STOP!"

This time it was a shout. Not a domineering command with intent to draw her back to him, but a genuinely terrified cry.

In her haste, she had forgotten that she was no longer looking ahead, a mistake that sent her tumbling head first down a set of stairs. She felt her legs fly out from beneath her, no aura there to lift her as she kept falling. Arms instinctively wrapping around her head, she turned so that her shoulder was the first to hit the unforgiving stone, the force of her descent causing her body to tumble over itself as she careened down the stairs. Her body screamed out as she made contact with the ground, the distinct crack of bone ringing through her ears. She seemed to fall forever, the stairs never ending as they battered her fragile frame to a pulp.

When the world stopped finally spinning and her body had come to a stand still, only then did she let out a cry - a terrible, ear-piercing shriek so that there was no mistaking how much she hurt. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, unable to keep up with the onslaught of pain. Everything ached as she forced herself into a sitting position, but it was her leg that hurt the most, the limb screaming as she tried to move it.

"Stupid girl!" The River God cursed, rushing over to her side.

"No! Don't touch me!" Isabella cried, managing to gather the strength to slap away her husband's hand through the terrible stabbing that seemed to radiate from her ankle.

"Don't be foolish," he snapped. "You are in pain. I need to get you to the palace."

"I said stay away!" she shouted forcefully to let him know that she was not to be trifled with.

For some reason, it was this that truly brought her husband to pause, hands hovering just over Isabella's leg as if approaching a wild animal. If she were not mistaken, she could see genuine pain and confusion mar his golden eyes.

"You would rather suffer than have me touch you?" he asked incredulously, in a voice barely that was barely audible.

She did not deign his question with an answer which was bound to be obvious had he actually listened to a word she had said. There was nothing he could do for her, no service he could provide to which she would willing consent. Her struggles continued as she tried to get up, though she was not yet strong enough to withstand her own weight. Her arms trembled, sweat running down her forehead as she exerted herself. She made progress until she tried to use her damaged foot, immediately yelping and crumbling under the white hot pain that jabbed into the appendage. She caught herself on her elbows, the joints digging into the hard stone, before she smashed her face into the stone.

That display was more than the River God could take. He stood and started pacing rapidly, unnerved by seeing Isabella struggle.

"Curse me if you must but I will not leave you in this way."

The next moment she was scooped up off the ground, the motion so quick there was barely time to protest. For a moment Isabella thought she was flying until she felt the familiar weight of two strong arms supporting her back and under her knees. She was being carried, moving faster than she ever thought possible, the trees and flowers blurring into indistinct shapes as the palace came closer into view.

"I need help!" The River God bellowed as he burst into her room.

"What happened?" Plia fussed as she materialized, whipping about the room to gather the necessary supplies just as quickly as he was.

"She fell in the garden," The River God replied tersely. "Can you heal her?"

"I can do my best."

They were talking about Isabella if she were not even there, moving around her, above her as if she had no say. There was no room for protest.

Then, the River God was lying her down on the bed, those intense eyes piercing hers and memories from their first night came rushing back into her mind, clouding the past from the present. All the panic she felt then, she felt now in full force.

"No!" Isabella shrieked. "Get off me!"

Her entire body thrashed on the bed. She needed to get up, get away. She needed to run to a boat and cross the river back home. She would be damned if she let them kill her, let the River God lay his hands on her again. Nothing about this place was safe; she was going to die here. First her ankle, then her life.

"My Lady, I beg you calm down!" Plia's voice begged, the aura fading in and out of sight, as if she could not settle on which form to take.

Everything was going fuzzy, her vision swimming as her head swiveled back and forth to keep both her husband and aura in view. They kept trying to touch her, kept trying to reach out but she kept fighting. She wouldn't give up. She would never give up!

"My Lady!" Plia shouted, and suddenly the aura was right in her space, swirling blue eyes causing all other input to fade away as she commanded, "SLEEP!"

It felt as if all the air had been siphoned from her lungs, and then the whole world faded to black.

* * *

Consciousness trickled back to Isabella slowly.

First, the evening breeze wafting through the balcony tickled her skin as it played with the wispy stray hairs on her forehead, cooling the sweat that had beaded at her brow, causing a shiver to run through her body. Her lids twitched to allow, secondly, the fading orange light to reach her eyes, alerting her to exactly how much time she had spent in her sudden slumber. Lastly, it was the humming from a familiar feminine voice that brought her fully back to life, Plia's music echoing off the cavernous walls so that it vibrated endlessly through her ears until it was too overwhelming to ignore.

Isabella's eyes fluttered open, lashes dancing against the pink of her cheeks. Her chest let out a soft sigh, expelling the air lying stagnant in her lungs. She felt as though her sleep was more of a brush with death, as if she were emerging from some sort of limbo. It was strange, but stranger still was the fact that the River God was still by her side, presumably watching her sleep the entire time. His golden eyes were fixated on her, though he made no move or spoke no word that indicated he was affected by her awakening.

"Wh-what happened?" Isabella asked, her voice rough from disuse.

"You had worked yourself into a frenzy. Plia managed to calm you down so she could tend to your wounds," her husband replied, his voice low and containing a gentleness of which she had not thought him capable.

"How bad are they?"

Isabella tried to sit up to see the extent of her self-inflicted damage, but was stopped by a pain in her side. She had bruised something, that much was clear, severely enough to warrant her lie back down. The movement had attracted the attention of Plia, the nervous aura fussing over her mistress and adjusting her pillows to ensure her absolute comfort.

"Minor scrapes have been bandaged and should heal within a few days," Plia said, gesturing to the swaths of cloth wrapped around her palms and knees. "However, your ankle is quite swollen. You broke the joint, and it could be a matter of weeks before you are able to regain full use of the appendage."

"I see..." Isabella trailed off, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the injury.

Her foot was elevated on a pillow, the ankle wrapped tightly with more cloth, this time wound over a wooden brace to keep the joint in place. It would need to heal properly lest she want to break it all over again and start the process once more. Even the tiniest shift in position caused her to hiss in discomfort. She was well and properly bedridden.

"Are you in pain, My Lady? Any discomfort at all?" Plia asked upon hearing the outburst. While Isabella was touched that Plia cared so much about her wellbeing, the best thing anyone could do for her was give her space. It was hard enough for her to stay cooped up in strict confines; to be even more restricted seemed like the kiss of death. She wanted to mourn her last shred of freedom before becoming prisoner to her own room in peace.

"No, I feel fine," Isabella dismissed, though that did nothing to assuage Plia's fears. So, Isabella tried smiling, though it took far too much effort than it was worth, even to see Plia put at ease. "Thank you for all you've done."

"Of course, My Lady," she replied, her tone heavy. "It is my upmost priority to ensure your comfort. If there is anything you need, do not hesitate to call."

Isabella went to speak, but her husband beat her to it.

"Thank you, Plia," The River God said quietly, much to the surprise of the aura. "You may leave us."

Stunned at hearing her own name, Plia complied with a dazed expression, curtseying deeply before dissolving into thin air. Even though the aura could be anywhere, Isabella had a feeling her last remnants had left the room. Isabella and the River God were truly alone.

"Answer me truthfully, are you in pain?" The River God asked once more. "There are draughts here that will ease your suffering, but should they lack potency I can send for more."

"The pain I feel is not of the body, but of the soul," Isabella replied, speaking to the sunset over the balcony instead of her husband whose eyes were set on her with rapt attention. "I feel as though the last vestige of my freedom has been stripped away, what little power I held...gone. I feel weak and vulnerable. I cannot stop you from taking what you want."

Silence rang out through the room. Heavy was the tension that built between them. The River God made no move, his body held rigidly in place. Isabella closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. He had been chasing her, trying to break her down since the moment she stepped foot into his palace and finally he had her where he wanted. She was in no position to fight back, no position to hold her own ground. If he chose to take her, she would have no choice but to lie down and take it. He had already shown his true colors, her wishes meaning nothing when she told him to leave her in the garden, that she would rather suffer than accept his aid. Perhaps that was harsh; perhaps she was being dramatic in a situation that felt more dire than it was. But it was still her wish, a wish that he blatantly defied even if it was to help.

The moment grew longer, and still she felt no touch. In fact, all she heard was her husband's pained breathing and the sound of a sigh that carried the unfamiliar tune of submission. It was an emotion foreign to the River God's confident visage, the sight of a proud man, so strong and powerful, laid low by a mere mortal. She knew now how she vexed him, how her ways tormented him. Oh, this must be eating him alive! But while his hands clenched tightly in and out of fists at his sides, not once did he give into temptation and reach out.

His voice was resigned as he said, "I swear to you on the river that binds me that I shall not touch you again until I have redeemed myself in your eyes."

Isabella was left speechless, shocked by such an uncharacteristic display of affection.

"Why are you being so kind to me?" Isabella asked skeptically. She was wondering what he was playing at, what he thought this concerned spousal act was going to get him, for she certainly was not going to reward a single act of kindness when it lied on top of a bed of horrors and missteps.

"It is as you said: you are my wife, and that does count for something," he replied solemnly, staring intently at her hands, his own folded over in his lap. Isabella had the girlish notion that he wished to take one in his own, and maybe she would let him despite her previous warnings and his vow. Everything was confusing in this haze of healing potions, herbs, and warm blankets. She felt so comfortable, and surprisingly safe in a way she had yet to feel. "I owe you a great many apologies, Isabella."

Isabella could hardly believe her ears. Just yesterday he asserted his dominance, head held high with pomp and ego, and declared her unworthy of an apology. Yet there he was, the most sincere apology falling from his lips. She wondered what turned his head, what made him change so suddenly? Surely a small accident in the gardens was not enough to spark such a monumental shift? Or perhaps that accident was catalyst to a greater reaction, the final blow that sent his angry facade crumbling to pieces. She was not inclined to ask, knowing there were some things she could not push her husband to reveal even in his more generous mood. And even with this new personality, this new kindness, she could not trust him to keep it. He could tire of her tomorrow and she would be none the wiser. Until she could trust him - _if_ she could ever trust him - there was no way to know if he was genuine, which meant that there was no way to know if his affection was genuine, and she would not stand to have him ruin her twice-over.

However, there was something about this accident that had spooked him. There was a haunted quality in his eyes, a weariness in his face that had not been there before. Perhaps what had transpired had shocked him into a revelation, had sparked something within him that had been long dead. It seemed far fetched, but it was the only explanation she could think of as Isabella reflected on the difference between the way her watched her now and they way he did before. While he looked through her in the past, now Isabella felt like she was truly being seen.

"Though I am glad that you are finally being honest, I am not sure I can forgive you," she admitted weakly. The River God nodded, his expression not betraying a single emotion, but Isabella could tell in the way his posture stiffened that he was disappointed. She was grateful that he had decided to keep that disappointed inside this time. Then, he got up to leave, no doubt because he assumed he was not wanted, so Isabella added, "But it is a start."

The River God gave a single nod but remained a few feet away, his gaze away from her eyes, locked on a point in the distance. There was no telling what he was thinking, what was going on in that infinite mind but for the first time in a long time Isabella was genuinely curious about her husband without sinister intentions. The side he had shown her today, the compassionate side, the side he locked away for reasons still unknown, was a side she wanted to see more often. This was the side she wanted from the moments she stepped foot onto this side of the river, and this was the side that if he continued to show, she was certain she could make a decent life with. Perhaps they would never be the perfect married couple, perhaps she would not trust him enough to be fully in love, but she could be happy.

"Thank you for saving me, My Lord," she said.

"Edward," he replied softly, Isabella almost missing the name carried on his lips. It took her by surprise when through her drugged haze she finally realized that the name was his.

"Thank you, Edward," she repeated.

The River God simply bowed at the waist before exiting the room, curtains swishing gently in the wind.

For the first time since arriving, Isabella slept easy.


	8. The Days In Between

A/N: No warnings for this one (and only mentions of Jacob)! Can't take credit for some lyrics either; they belong to Eric Whitacre and The Seal Lullaby (beautiful song if you've never heard it). Hope you loves enjoy! XOXOX!

* * *

The Days In Between

The days that passed from Isabella's initial tumble through the gardens to her return to a state of wellbeing all blurred into one.

There was little separation between night and day, only markers that kept her routine. Sometimes the hours flew by in a haze. Sometimes the minutes dragged on as if they would never pass. Sunrises melded into sunsets, the pattern confusing to keep track of. Perhaps it was the drugs, perhaps it was her constant need to sleep off the pain that lessened by the day. Plia did all she could to keep Isabella comfortable, but truth be told, the aura was more of a nuisance, the way she hovered over Isabella's every breath, terrified that it may be her last.

When it came time to put weight on the damaged ankle, Isabella thought Plia might be the one to faint. The aura was such a bundle of nerves she kept fluttering in and out of materiality. But Isabella's body took back to walking as if it had not been bedridden for an extended period of time. It was a small victory, for soon after her legs felt the strain of her weight and she was forced to retire lest she collapse on the stone and do even more damage. Still, she worked at her steps daily, determined to be up and about as quickly as possible. The longer she laid around in the care and comfort of the palace, the longer she let her judgement stray and her fouler memories grow cobwebs.

Briefly, her thoughts lingered on Jacob and how worried he must be...

The whistle felt heavy in her pocket, sitting like the burden of a secret between layers of gauzy fabric. Somehow, Isabella felt guilty for keeping it on her person. It felt like a betrayal, a sign of ingratitude for all her husband had done to ensure her speedy recovery. But then she remembered how she got to be in this position in the first place, running from a man who kept far too many secrets of his own. Isabella had thought that in her down time, she would get to know more about her husband or that he would be more forthcoming with answers. She should have known not to be so naive in these matters, for his lips were sealed tighter than a tomb.

However, his lips were not the only things sealed. As she passed through a corridor, Plia a few paces ahead, a new mystery surfaced in the form of a door. It caught her eye, as it was one she had not seen before. The frame was cut from the same stone as the rest of the palace, yet this door had visible locks and an inscription in a language she could not read. Straying, she went to take a closer look.

"Plia..." Isabella called, her curiosity calling her to explore what lied beyond. "What lies beyond this door?"

"That is My Lord's private chambers," Plia replied curtly, intercepting Isabella before she could get any further. "They are strictly off limits to everyone, including yourself and the aurae."

"Oh," Isabella frowned, still staring at the door, fingers itching to push forward. "Do you know what is inside?"

"Surely nothing interesting," Plia dismissed, trying to corral Isabella away from the and towards the gardens. "Come now My Lady or we shall be late."

This morning, as the same as every morning the past fortnight, Isabella was to meet her husband out in the gardens for breakfast. He had been adamant in the meetings, insisting that the fresh air and the walk from her chambers to the southernmost courtyard would be good to regain strength in her injured ankle. Isabella just supposed it was his way of keeping an eye on her, his overprotective nature of what he claimed 'his' flaring overtly these past few weeks. Not only did he insist on breakfast, but on dinner as well. Sometimes he randomly popped a head in her room or interrupted her walks with Plia to make sure she was taking her medicines and still breathing. It was borderline smothering, and Isabella had come to the maddening realization that she might have liked things better when he hated her. At least then, she had time to herself.

Still, she could not take her husband's generosity for granted. He had, no doubt, rearranged his entire schedule to care for her. And then there was the river itself to think about, a force of nature that relied on her husband for stability and guidance. When she put herself next to that, she wondered why he ever chose an insignificant human over his duty.

"Ah, Isabella. Good morning," the River God stood upon meeting, reaching out to pull out her chair. "I see you are walking marvelously."

He was careful not to touch her, not even the most cursory of brushes. It seemed as though he was going to stick to his vow, something Isabella was grateful for but also admired. His change in behavior since her accident was suspicious, yet also sweet. She had yet to discover what had sparked such a drastic turn around, though she was gathering ideas. The most prominent involved the other wives experiencing similar accidents, and it was a natural reflex that resurfaced despite her husband's repression attempts. The wildest included him needing her to be in peak physical condition before he sacrificed her to the river.

"Good morning, Edward," Isabella replied, enjoying being able to say her own husband's name. She did admit, it humanized him. Though he still retained his aura of power and those intensely golden eyes that marked him as anything but, a name brought him down to her level. It allowed her to breathe easier, as if he had slipped off his titles and his mask and allowed her to see the person, not the power. He too, seemed to enjoy hearing his name spoken aloud. A faint upward quirk of his lips was all she needed to confirm his pleasure. "Away from the river again?"

"The river can spare an hour without my guidance," he assured. "After all, there are more than just I who keep the tides flowing."

"So you say, but I have yet to meet these helpful spirits," Isabella quipped.

"Perhaps in time," Edward said.

That was all he ever said. He would give her the slightest taste of truth and then deny her more. Isabella had been restless in her search, trying her hardest to use her limited charms to win her husband's good graces. She thought, perhaps, if she stayed complacent he would like her more and be more inclined to share trust. If that were so, then his trust was an impossible thing to win. She knew that he had begun to grow fond of her, as he seemed less willing to part ways as the days went on, but the trust...it had yet to rear its head. His secrets were still a locked box, and so this land still remained a mystery.

"Another day spent in the gardens?" he asked cordially.

"Yes," Isabella replied, nodding her head. "I find it is one of the few places here that brings a sense of comfort and familiarity."

For a moment, her mind wandered to the woods, to the warm, wet feeling of the earth beneath her toes and the whispers of the willows. She felt peaceful, at ease amongst those trees. And then, when Jacob came to meet her with those dark soulful eyes and broad muscled chest, her heart just...

Isabella's spoon skittered against the edge of her teacup, bringing her back to the present. It was distasteful to fantasize about another man - another life - in the presence of her husband.

"Besides, the routine keeps my days in line," Isabella added, clearing her mind with the sensation of scalding tea down her throat. It burned, but it kept her from fantasizing any longer.

"Routine is hardly something to be enjoyed. If it is entertainment you seek than I shall have to have Plia gather more activities," Edward mused. "Tell me, what do you fancy? Do you play an instrument?"

"I play the harp."

"Then I shall have one moved to your room," he said definitively, and Isabella felt a gust of wind that had to have come from an aura fulfilling his command. "Is there anything else?"

"No, that is very kind of you, My Lord," Isabella thanked.

"I do not wish for you to go mad from boredom," he replied, looking at Isabella intently. "If you think of anything else, anything at all, do not hesitate to ask."

Isabella bit her tongue. She had much to ask for, but nothing in means of material things. Her husband's way of caring for her was to lavish her with gifts, with pretty trinkets to occupy her days and distract her from her search. Those things meant nothing; if she had cared for finery then she would have stayed in her village and married a rich merchant or Elder. If she were to ask for what she truly wanted, then her husband would not be so eager to give. The smile that so rarely graced his face would fall faster than a stone into deep waters. Not that she cared much about her husband's feelings, but keeping him in a good mood instead of his irate, angry one boded far better for her quality of life.

For now, she would have to stay on the slow path...at least until she was recovered.

* * *

The next day, after coming in from her outing in the garden, Isabella was surprised to see that a harp had, in fact, been moved to her suite. The golden frame glittered in the afternoon sun, far more opulent than any she had ever laid eyes on. She sat down at the chair sized at perfect height, her fingers gently brushing across the strings. They were pulled taut and precisely tuned, the sound though soft, ringing purely across the room. Even the birdsongs fell flat in comparison to such perfect pitch. Plia gasped and clapped her hands, eager to hear more, and Isabella could not stop a smile from creeping up her face.

 _Wherever did he find such a magnificent instrument?_

It had been so long since she had played; the Elders though it was a good skill to have to perhaps please the River God, but not a skill to be prized above obedience and other wifely duties. Isabella had played in the rare free time the Elders gave her, keeping up her talents so they did not fade away. Now, as her fingers found the familiar strings, she allowed her muscle memory to take over, a song she and her father used to sing filling the space.

Perhaps it was the time or the distance or the hint of something familiar, but nostalgia washed over Isabella in waves as the tune carried on. She hummed under her breath, words long forgotten as her mind carried her away to a time long ago.

In this memory she was a child, no more than six years, and running across the shallows where the river met the shore. It was sandy there, the rocks giving way to the yellow, coarse grains that turned nearly black by the time the tides had rolled in. It was low tide now, tiny pools forming between rocks where her child-sized hands fished for tadpoles or shells. Isabella swore she could feel the wind, just as cold and wet as if she were there now and not in her tropical paradise.

The vision shifted, and there was a man behind her. Her father's face came into view, so much less haggard and wearied from age, no strands of grey at his temples or in his mustache. He smiled widely at her, scooping her up in his arms while she squealed, all the while singing his song (albeit poorly and in a grumbling base), the song she knew by heart.

 _Oh hush thee, my baby, the night is behind us,_

 _And black are the waters that sparkled so green._

An old sailor's lullaby, one that all the children of the village grew up with while they watched their fathers and mothers disappear on their boats into the river's fog in search of a good harvest. Her father was no sailor, no fisherman, no man of the river. He was a knight, a protector of the village, and so the song always seemed an odd choice. But it was the only thing that rocked her to sleep, the only song that could soothe her following the death of her mother. It was only now that she realized that he had not sung to her once since she was Chosen.

The child version of herself giggled and writhed in her father's grasp, trying to sing in between her bursts of laughter. There was so much pure joy, so much to look forward to. A life of happiness and song. It made her heart twist with melancholy, and she felt tears brimming on the edges of her lashes.

 _Asleep in the arms of the slow swinging seas..._

The song came to and end. By the time the last note echoed across the walls, Isabella's fingers were burning and raw. She opened her eyes to see Plia tearing up, sniffling quietly.

"Whatever is wrong?" Isabella asked, confused as to why her aura looked so distressed.

"You...on the beach with your father..." Plia hiccuped, dabbing her eyes with the hem of her gown. "You were so _happy_."

"You saw that?" Isabella asked, startled.

"Music tells a story, and here...quite literally," Plia explained, her voice watery. "While you were playing the story of the song, the Muses were playing yours."

"Muses?"

"Patron goddesses of music, poetry, literature, and a great many other fancies of the heart and mind," Plia said, her expression becoming wistful. "They long since shed their physical forms, instead choosing to present themselves as waves of inspiration or awe. They must have liked your song to join as they did. I know I did."

"But why show memories?"

"Sometimes, in order to truly appreciate a work or extract meaning, one must first know the source."

 _Fascinating_ , Isabella thought, scrutinizing her new harp with new eyes. She studied it as if she were trying to search for the Muses in the curve of the neck or the soundboard. All she found was a glittering work of art. Perhaps that was what had drawn the Muses to her: the glamour of the instrument itself. She refused to think that her old lullaby was special enough to grant such attention. She had had enough run-ins with godly creatures for her liking, and did not wish to attract any more attention. More than that, she did not wish to have anyone else inside her head without her permission. This was a dangerous place; the more that was shared, the more that could be used against her.

As if to prove a point, Plia clamored up from her perch on Isabella's bed, trying to make herself busy to impress the imposing figure leaning in the doorway unannounced.

"My Lord," Plia dropped into a curtsey as the River God approached, apology laced through her tone. "Forgive me, I did not see you there."

"There is no offense to forgive," he assured the aura, who nodded but did not rise. "I have come to escort Isabella to dinner."

"Of course," Isabella replied, standing from her seat at the harp to take her husband's arm.

How long he had been watching, she couldn't be sure. He was silent as a shadow, slipping in and out of places with ease. He could have only just arrived, or he could have been watching the entire song...the entire _memory_. If he had seen, he did not say a word, merely securing her arm and turning to go in silence.

Isabella took one look from the harp to her husband, and wondered if his intentions were not all as they had seemed.

* * *

Despite her apprehensions, Isabella continued to play her harp.

She took precautions, of course. She waited until she was certain her husband was at the river and played no longer than a few minutes at a time, careful to pick songs from memories that held no real importance. It seemed to work, for the Muses had not visited her since that first song. Plia thought her curious for such strange play, but said nothing, simply humming along to songs she had never heard before as she carried on with chores. If the River God noticed her lack of playing in his presence, he did not voice it. Sometimes, Isabella would catch his golden eyes peering through the curtains that divided their rooms. A flicker of light, a rustle of silk, and nothing more. As if he were waiting for something to happen.

Isabella said nothing of the matter either, pretending not to notice though their gazes said otherwise. This was a strange and unfamiliar game they were playing, one that she had not quite grasped the rules of, but one she was not willing to lose. Whatever he wanted from her, whatever he was not saying, she would have to figure out on his terms.

Still, Edward was exceedingly thoughtful and kind towards her, almost as if the brute she met her first night was another man entirely. Why, just this night she retired to her chambers after dinner to find every available surface covered in flowers of all kinds. They were bright and fresh and filled with the most heavenly perfumes. Isabella requested Plia take some to be made into oils for her bath, a task the aura fulfilled with the widest of smiles.

After her bath, warm and content in her sleeping robes, Isabella had the idea to go and thank the River God for his kindness. Normally he would come to bid her goodnight, as he had regained permission for those simpler actions, but tonight he was strangely absent, a break from his newfound ritual. Plia had been dismissed for the night, doing whatever it was she did when she reverted to her natural form, but Isabella did not need her for this. Her husband's chambers lied just beyond her own.

Pushing past the curtains and knocking on the door, she received no answer. In fact, the other side was incredibly quiet. Curious, Isabella pushed on the handle to find it unlocked. Sucking in a breath, Isabella crossed the threshold into uncharted territory.

She had never set foot in the River God's chambers before, and she was both relieved and surprised that they looked very similarly to her own. A four-post bed draped in purple velvet sat elevated in the center of the room, tables and pedestals filled with antiques and trinkets she could not name lining the walls between intricate columns. The floors were marble but colored black to make swirling patterns. The candelabras on the walls were still lit, the wax only half melted. Wherever he was, he had not strayed far for long.

Half her mind told her to turn back, that it was not safe to linger in his territory. Half her mind implored her to seize this chance to explore this odd collection and obtain the answers she so desperately sought. However, she got the chance to follow neither, as a flickering light from the other side of the room drew her attention. As she neared the source, she realized that the large wardrobe against the wall was not a wardrobe at all, merely the facade of one. One of the mahogany doors had been left askance, and from inside, she could see more tables and chests and a flash of familiar blue robes.

 _A secret room!_

Stepping closer, Isabella peered through the crack in the door, the room beyond becoming clearer. It was smaller than his chambers, walls covered in towering shelves, and warmer - decorated with rugs and banners in hues of red, orange, and gold. There, he stood hunched over a center table, watching in rapture as her husband unsheathed the weapon sitting on the wooden surface. Though short, it was an elegant sword made of polished silver and cold filed to a deadly point. The hilt was embedded with rubies the size of grapes and the blade itself bore inscriptions up the length that she could not read. The fire from the hearth played across the glittering metal, the reflection of the River God's golden eyes melting into the picture. He seemed just as transfixed as she was, his hand reaching out to stroke the edge. His finger caught the tip, and then...

...Isabella gasped.

For when the River God drew his finger away, there was a single, clean line from where the blade had sliced his flesh. He was bleeding not red, but gold ichor. Stranger even was the way he looked at the wound with reverence, unsurprised that this weapon could inflict such damage. It was a horrifying sight, something that caused Isabella to look away.

Everything she knew about the gods was slowly unravelling. All her life, she had been taught that immortals were invincible, incapable of perceiving pain or harm. They were forever and they were all-mighty. Now, to see her husband in possession of a blade that had the power to cut a god, to hurt a god...to _kill_ a god...She shivered. How did the River God even come to find such a cursed thing? Why would he want to be anywhere near it? Why would he handle it knowing the mortality it offered?

Or maybe...maybe the sword wasn't intended for him at all.

Had he tired of her? Was her injury too inconvenient? Too demanding? He was the one who insisted on smothering her, doting on her every need and ailment. He had given her space and shown her kindness. Was this how he lured them in? Did he kill the other wives with the same blade? Grow too close, ask too many questions and he shall cut you down? Or perhaps something worse...Did he need her heart to sustain his life? Her blood to run through his veins, keeping him forever youthful? The conspiracies that came with such power were overwhelming. Isabella didn't know what to think or what to do. She could only focus on protecting herself, on protecting -

Suddenly, her thoughts shifted to a much more present danger.

Maybe it was his reckoning, his weapon of choice to battle the Shapeshifters. Maybe her husband was the cruel war monger Jacob painted him to be. Why else would he need such a weapon? Who else would he need to slay with a weapon capable of cutting down a god?

She needed to warn Jacob. She needed to tell him what her husband was planning before he destroyed the Shapeshifters altogether.

Scrambling away, Isabella took off towards her own rooms. She had left the whistle in the pocket of her robes, which had been lying neatly on the edge of her bed last she checked. Plia should not have carted off with the laundry just yet; the aura always did such things while Isabella was asleep. Once she had the whistle, she would run out to the gardens and tell Jacob everything. She would tell him to take his brothers and go far away so that they would be safe, implore him not to go to war as she could not bear such violence. It was a lot to ask, but a small price for such valuable information.

True to belief, the dress was where she had left it an hour ago. Isabella stuck her hands deep into both pockets, reaching into the crumpled layers of fabric, only to come up empty handed. That...that was not right. Surely, she had missed it. But she tried again and again, searching through the same holes of the gown she knew last housed the whistle, afraid to come to the realization she knew was fact.

The whistle was gone.


	9. The Confrontation

A/N: Sorry for such the long wait! I was trying to wrap up another project before I got back to this one, and then writer's block hit. Not a good combo :( But I'm back now, so I hope you enjoy this chapter! XOXOX

* * *

The Confrontation

After another day filled with stilted smiles and harp recitals, Isabella snuck back into her husband's chambers.

She was certain that he was out; she had seen him leave in a hurry to the river. Normally the river was quiet come evening, but on this occasion something was happening. Whatever it was, Isabella did not worry herself with it. She had other plans on what to do with her time.

Inside the River God's chambers, the false cabinet was sealed shut. This was a problem, as Isabella did not know how to open it from the outside. Deftly, she ran her hands along the surface, searching out any imperfections or hidden triggers that could indicate an opening. Disappointingly, there were none. There were also no defining features or patterns on the outside of the cabinet. The situation was frustrating, and soon her time would be up. Every second she lingered was like playing with fire. She had hoped to be in and out by this point, not still worrying about how to get in.

In a huff, Isabella leaned against the side of the cabinet, only to find it shift under her weight. Isabella was not a heavy girl, so to have the entire structure move was both surprising and curious. With a bit more maneuvering, Isabella found to her great delight, that the false cabinet was constructed of very light material. She pushed it aside with ease, revealing the doorway.

The sword still laid on the center table, sitting upon a red velvet-lined cushion as if being presented in all its terrible glory. Its presence was taunting, mesmerizing, her other objective temporarily forgotten. The urge to reach out and touch the blade was overwhelming. The only thing holding Isabella at bay was the memory of her husband's blood glistening across the metal. If this could cut a god, she could not fathom the damage it could do to a mere mortal such as herself.

Priorities restored, Isabella stepped into the tight space and turned her attention to the rising shelves. They were cluttered with trinkets and treasures, books and bottles, vials and volumes too numerous to count. The truly important artifacts were encased in glass and given pedestals or places on the tables.

What she was looking for was no treasure. In fact, it could hardly be considered worth a collector's time, a piece hardly to be missed if it suddenly went missing from the shelves. Of course, the whistle was not supposed to grace these shelves in the first place, but this seemed to be the logical spot to hoard one's stolen goods. If her husband had stolen from her, this was the safest place to hide it.

There was something strange about the room as well, something Isabella could not quite place a finger on. It was warm, yes, and dimly lit - a contrast to the sparkling sterility of the rest of the palace. But that was not the problem. No, the problem was that the air felt too thin, like she was sucking in breaths only to come up short.

She tripped over her own two feet, running into the nearest table, dislodging some of the artifacts that rest upon the surface. Strange...she could have swore that the ground was not shifting before. The priceless items fell to the floor with a deafening clang. Isabella winced, praying that her husband could not hear such a commotion from the river...if he was even still at the river.

It became harder to focus, everything blurring together in a sea of colors. What was once a tapestry molded into a bookcase that faded into the walls themselves. It was hard to determine which way was up or down, if she were in the back of the room or inches from the door. Isabella could not pick out a whistle even if it were right in front of her face. Her eyes burned, her lungs seized, and in a few minutes, she would be reduced to a heap on the floor. The only thing that made sense was a pair of alarmingly golden eyes glaring at her from across the way. She latched onto them for dear life despite their intense fury, using them as an anchor.

"Can't...breathe..." she wheezed.

"Isabella get out of there!" the River God ordered, seeming concerned not with the lack of air, but with the fact she was in his private space. Why did this room have no air? Why did it not affect him as he crossed the threshold, stepping inside to beckon her towards him?

Using him as a guide, Isabella threw herself from the room. It mattered not that she was empty handed. All she wanted was to taste the sweet air on her lips. She careened through the room, head spinning as she stumbled to dais that held his bed, her body falling to the stone steps. Her arms shook as they held her weight, shoulders shuddering as her lungs reacquainted themselves with the familiar push and pull of breaths. For a moment, all Isabella could hear was the blood rushing to her own head, and her husband's frantic steps.

"Why are you here?" he demanded, booming across the marble walls. "What right do you have to search through my things?"

If she were in a better state of mind, Isabella would have had the sense to be terrified. But her only sense at the moment was to keep breathing, to keep pulling air into her lungs. She had no room for fear.

"I was...I was looking for...for something of mine," Isabella gasped as she righted herself, stilling drinking in air with greedy gulps as her pulse slowed down to a normal rhythm. "A personal effect went missing...I thought maybe you had found it..."

"You mean this?" he asked, pulling the whistle from his pocket and displaying it in an open palm.

"H-how did you - "

" _Please_ , Isabella. I am the River God. Do you think anything goes on around these banks without my knowing?" Edward simpered, looking down upon her as if she were still just an ignorant child. Isabella's stomach rolled, feeling sick as she realized that all her quiet, personal moments with Jacob were tainted by her husband's watching eyes.

"But _how_?" Isabella insisted. " _How_ did you get it from my robes?"

"I did not retrieve the whistle. Plia did. Your first mistake was assuming her loyalty lied anywhere other than with me," Edward chided, looking at Isabella with pity and disappointment, as if she were a child that he expected more from. "Don't be cross with her. I knew about the whistle the moment it crossed into my territory. I just thought you had the good sense not use it, not to trust a _dog_."

Isabella felt her temper flare, and suddenly, his words compiled with the fresh sting of betrayal were too much to bear. The tight coil in her stomach snapped, unleashing all the red hot anger she had spent so long holding inside. "Is that why you want to destroy them? Because they're dogs? Because you hate them so much?"

The questions were rapid fire, spitting out of her mouth before she could clamp her tongue. Immediately, she felt regret, but upon seeing the stunned look on her husband's face, a slow satisfaction took over. For a moment, he simply gaped, not used to being spoken to in such a way. Really, he should have come to expect such unconventionality from her.

"Destroy them?" Edward asked, brow knit in confusion and annoyance.

"With the sword you keep in your false bureau," she clarified, watching his confusion warp into a dark snarl like an animal who had been backed into a corner. She had hit a sensitive nerve, which meant she was poking in the right direction. "You contain a trove of treasures hidden behind a secret wall, yet I was taught my whole life to believe that the gods had nothing to fear."

"Choose your next words _very_ carefully," Edward warned, his gaze crackling like lightning ready to strike. Isabella had pushed too far with her jibe. He did not like being called weak, even more so being called cowardly. Isabella could see the wounded pride trying to mend behind dangerous eyes. Still, she refused to back down, not when she had him in a vulnerable position for the first time since their meeting.

"You have a sword inside that room that can cut an immortal - don't deny it, I've seen it," she cut him off, daring to rear her head to someone so powerful. "I watched as you bled. I saw what that blade can do and I know no weapon that powerful can be used for anything but violence."

"You do not know of what you speak."

"If not violence then what else? What other purpose do you have for possessing such a weapon?"

"Do not push me," he seethed, fists curling until his knuckles turned white. The veins in his arms and neck were protruding, as if he were doing everything in his power to keep his anger at bay. How easy it would be for him to lash out, Isabella thought morosely. How easy it would be for him to strike her down. The fact that he hadn't was a miracle. If this were any other day, she would have taken this blessing and scampered out of sight. If this were any other day, she would have let him be. But this was not any other day; this was the last straw, and it made her so stupidly reckless.

"I need to know!" Isabella shouted, her voice echoing across the walls, finally at her breaking point. "You have me running around this prison with a thousand different stories in my mind! I am going insane and instead of just telling me the truth you're perpetuating my misery! I am sick of these games and I am begging you to set me free!"

"Edward!" she shrieked, following after him. She pushed past the curtains into her own room, down the stairs and through the halls, never relenting even as he hastened his pace away from her. Isabella would not let him go this easily. "EDWARD!"

Isabella chased him down to the river where the water churned violently in its bed. A storm was brewing in the sky, dark clouds rolling in across the eternally sunny horizon. Now, everything looked black, the nighttime creeping upon them quickly. Wind whipped through her hair, scattering the dark locks around her face. Isabella was nearly blinded by the layer of hair forming in front of her eyes, but pushed forward. She could see Edward just across the grass, his blue robes billowing around his calves.

This was not aura-induced wind. This was something else, something much more primal at work, and though her husband's might scared her, the thought of living another day in this much uncertainty scared her more.

"I cannot live like this!" she shouted over the wind. "I _will not_ live like this! Not anymore!"

Miraculously, he heard.

Edward's eyes flashed, the gold nearly molten in its intensity, and lightning crackled, striking the river with terrifying speed. Thunder rolled, menacing and deep so that it canceled out any other noise.

"Do not pretend as though you have a choice in the matter," he replied icily. "You are my wife and I will not tolerate - "

"Yes, I am your _wife_!" Isabella rebutted, his tone and the mist from the river chilling her to the bone. "Not your trinket or your prize or one of your damned aurae! And I am asking as your wife for some shred of truth. You don't have to tell me everything, not even most things, just something to let me know that I am not going insane, or else I will be forced to reconcile my theories as truth. Tell me anything, anything at all, just don't tell me any more lies."

They stood in absolute stillness, in the cold and the wet, in a stalemate.

Edward reached up, tanned fingers catching one of her buoyant curls. He played with the dark brown lock thoughtfully, as if it held the decision he sought. It was an intimate gesture, one that had Isabella's heart pounding, clawing its way up only to get stuck in her throat. For a moment, all went still. The waves ceased, the storm clouds slowed, and the lightning remained at bay.

Perhaps...perhaps there was room to hope after all.

"No."

The verdict was swift and devastating. The waves crashed against the shore as roughly as before. The storm clouds continued to darken the sky as the lightning illuminated the spaces in between. The two of them were stuck in the eye, untouched by the chaos...for now. Her curl had unwound itself from Edwards grip, floating just out of reach. Everything about this world, this land, this god, was just out of reach, now flying further and further away. Isabella could have cried out of sheer frustration.

"N-no?" Isabella stammered, caught off guard. "No to what?"

"I shall not tell you," he clarified with brutal resolution. "After this display, you are not capable of knowing, nor do you _deserve_ to know a single thing about my affairs."

"Then I cannot stay here," Isabella said blankly, unable to fathom this blatant rejection.

"You will go nowhere," Edward replied harshly, face scrunching in distaste at her distress. He took a step forward, but Isabella took an equal one back. The another. And another.

"I cannot stay," Isabella repeated. She was feeling a million things at once. Hurt, betrayal, confusion, anger, pain, sadness, mourning, disappointment, and many more all at once. Such infinite emotions made her feel nauseous, like she wanted to throw herself into the river and drown them all out.

She turned her back to him, walking away.

He reached out, but as soon as his fingertips hovered mere inches from her wrist, a force stronger than any other intervened and pushed her husband far from her. His body careened through the air, the whistle falling from his grip. Isabella scampered for it, falling to her knees to scoop it up from the grass. She cradled the carved wood to her breast, her heart hammering, when she realized her husband had yet to stop her.

Looking up, she saw that he had landed a good distance away. He picked himself up, staring at his hands in abject horror. Then he raised his gaze to her, and that horror turned to irritation and loathing.

Isabella remembered something important. He swore on the river not to touch her...he _swore,_ and a promise that grave did not sound like something to make lightly. Any touches they shared - an arm as escort to dinner, a brush of hands when passing objects - had all been initiated by her. Whatever he had said, whatever promise he had made to greater powers, he could not break his vow. While she may be able to touch him, _he_ was unable to touch _her_...unable to _stop_ her. And that gave her the tiniest shred of hope.

So she ran.

"Isabella!" he shouted, making quick strides to catch up with her. "Isabella turn around at once!"

She paid him no mind. His words were idle threats. His commands were moot. Now that she knew he had no power to enact his justice, there was nothing tethering her to him or his palace. Her feet carried her through the grass, up the hill, and towards a familiar path. The gardens were just up ahead. If she retraced her morning route she would reach her alcove, her willow tree. Only there, in the vast green wood, she would she be safe.

"You are playing with forces you know nothing of!"

The River God's voice sounded larger than himself, as if he were coming from all directions. As if he were communicating through the river itself. His tone was chilling, sending shivers down her spine. She stumbled but did not fall, catching her toes along the cracks in the old stone of the garden path. Normally she was more careful in watching her step. Normally the stakes were not this high.

The whistle felt like an anchor weighing her down, like a stone dragging around her ankle. How Edward had yet to catch up was beyond her. Her muscles burned from exhaustion, but Isabella pushed forward.

"I may not be able to stop you, but the aurae can!"

Clouds from above took on more sinister shapes as they flocked to the ground. It looked like a demonic mist was chasing Isabella, nipping at her heels as she wound her way through the garden. There was no way to outrun the air itself; deep inside, Isabella knew that. No matter how kind the aurae, they would obey the River God without question. They would bring her down.

Was Plia in this gale? Was she among her sisters, ready to do whatever was necessary to do her duty? Isabella knew that the aura was not to be fully trusted, but over her time at the palace, Isabella had grown attached to the excitable spirit. It came as a betrayal to have someone so close do something so backhanded.

Still, she ran. The aurae snaked around her ankles, tripping her more frequently. Isabella could tell that they were trying to be discreet, cause her to fall on her own to prevent any physical altercation. They pulled wind through her hair so violently that she feared it would rip from its roots. Her robes flew up in her face, catching on bushes and branches, tearing the delicate fabric to shreds yet she kept on pushing forward.

The willow was so close. Isabella could see the opening to her glen. It was just over the small bridge, then the gazebo, close enough to touch.

Isabella pushed her way to the garden's edge, pushing her way through the familiar, flexible branches of the willow though they snapped sharp as whips in the wind. The branches lashed out and sliced at her sensitive skin, creating small cuts all along her arms, legs, hands, and feet. What a mess she must have looked like, what a wild creature to be thrown into these vast and unfamiliar woods.

"Jacob!" Isabella screamed, her voice hoarse from exertion. In that moment, leaning up against trunk of a tree across the clearing, she felt the exhaustion finally hit her as the adrenaline faded away. Her legs wobbled, knees knocked, and she felt as though she were going to keel over. Desperation washed over her in waves, the fact that there was still so much further to go and that she still was not safe creating a pool of dread in her stomach.

Trembling hands dug into the remains of her pockets and bruised lips muttered thanks to gods that she no longer put faith in when the whistle came out unharmed. A small miracle. If she had misplaced the whistle in the winds, all would be lost.

Grey fog burst into the clearing, darkening the greenery to near black. Isabella stumbled backwards, thrust once more into the fray, but it was no use. The aurae formed a wide circle around her, moving in rapid motions, trapping her in a vortex of wind. Except this vortex forced all the air upward, ripping it straight from Isabella's lungs as it had been earlier in her husband's secret room. She choked on nothing, hands wrapping around her neck as her eyes watered, watching the wall of grey. Isabella heard their laments, their wails for her to comply.

 _Come home, please come home_ , they implored, as if they did not wish to do her any harm though they were suffocating her where she stood.

She fell to her knees and writhed in the grass, frantic. Her fingers fumbled for the whistle, grasping helplessly at the forest floor. Her nails sunk into the dirt while her other hand flew to her neck, clawing at the skin as if she could break through to her windpipe and allow easier access. That hand grew slick with blood, the sting of earth infiltrating her open wound only added insult to injury. Not only was her husband breaking her, but she was breaking herself.

 _Stop fighting My Lady! End this madness!_

Madness, what an accurate description. The lack of oxygen was starving her mind, making her eyes blur and mouth go dry. Her head felt like it was going to explode, her brain screaming for release while her lungs burned as if someone had set them aflame. This kind of suffering was unreal, so much worse than before. Isabella begged whatever other deities were listening to release her from this torture. She reached for the whistle, using her last bits of energy to surge forward in a final attempt. She was so close...

...and at last her hand wrapped around smooth wood. But there was no time to revel in small victories.

Isabella raised the mouth of the whistle to her lips with shaking hands, willing herself to do this one last thing before her body gave out. Sacrificing her last bits of air, she sounded the whistle. It emitted a high pitched shriek, higher than any other dog whistle she had encountered in her village. The sound was deafening, her ears ringing so loudly that she was no longer sure if the noise she was hearing was an illusion or the whistle itself.

When she could no longer stand it, when she saw bright white spots in her vision and the fire in her lungs accelerated to consume the rest of her, she let the whistle fall from her lips into the dirt. Where it landed, she did not know. It was unimportant. The signal was sent. Now all she had to do was pray that it was received.

"NO!" a sonorous, outraged voice boomed across the tree tops, rattling the sky above and ground below. Or perhaps it was the rumbling in the distance - the trademark of an impending stampede - that caused the rattling. Both were closing in, surrounding her on both sides.

Isabella had no energy to determine to whom the voice belonged or why the ground was shaking. She had no energy to do anything except sleep.

Her eyes fluttered shut, the world spinning in dizzying circles before fading to black.


	10. The Forest

A/N: Hello loves! WARNINGS: This chapter starts the Jacob-centric part of the story, so if you want to throw it away now, go for it. But these next few chapters will be about Isabella's time with the Shapeshifters so...yeah no Edward for the foreseeable future. He'll come back though, don't worry.

Also, I was wondering how one went about getting a beta in this fandom. I've never had one before, and I'm looking to write for a contest going on and need a beta if I want to enter. If anyone has any info or recommendations, I would be grateful if you could send me a PM or something. Thanks!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you for being such wonderful readers, followers, and overall incredible people! XOXOX

* * *

The Forest

Isabella woke to soft light filtering through her eyelids. The atmosphere was so warm and gentle that she had half a mind to wrap herself in it and remain asleep forever.

Then, memories from before infiltrated her peaceful slumber. The terror she endured, the look of pure, burning anger in the River God's eyes, the way her body gave out after being starved of air for so long. The world looked so dim...she had no idea if this was even the land of the living. But she was definitely lying in a bed - a downy one filled with feathers at that - with thin sheets and thick, woolen blankets strewn on top, layering her in a cocoon of comfort.

Sitting up, Isabella took in her surroundings.

She was no longer in the River God's palace, something that made her heart both lurch and sigh with relief. Instead of cold marble walls, these walls were made of bent cedar wood. Holes were cut for windows and light flooded through the gaps between the logs, illuminating the whole space. The roof was slanted and made of wide green leaves tied together by vines. Despite the earthly materials, the room was still spacious though it contained nothing but the low level bed, a single table dressed with a plate of dried fruits and bread, and a pit made for a fire carved in the center floor. Whoever lived here insisted on simplicity, and Isabella could not bring herself to complain.

Rising to stand, her feet sunk into the soft grass and dirt, tickling her toes. Everything in this place seemed so much more alive than it did near the river. The smells of honeysuckle and pine were richer, the fruit tasted sweeter, and the air felt lighter in her chest. Every blade of grass hummed with energy that buzzed in her ears and flowed through her body. Isabella felt rejuvenated just standing there, as if she could pick up on just how _alive_ she really was.

Gone were her torn robes, replaced with cream colored ones made of breezy linen. They were not as fine as the ones from the palace, but reminded her of the robes back from there village, calling to mind simpler times. Her scratches had been cleaned and wrapped gently, her face and hair washed from dirt and debris. She felt like a whole new woman, one who was at peace with herself and free from the anxiety that had come to riddle her days.

Stepping outside the hut, sunlight assaulted her senses. Even the trees did nothing to obscure the glow. Isabella had to squint to see, using her hand as a visor. A path was worn into the ground, snaking through the wood and down a hill. From this view, she could see a few other roofs of similar establishments, a small village hidden amidst the green.

Isabella followed the path, grateful for some shade. Though even walking through the beating sun, she did not feel overly warm. This place was a different kind of paradise, she had come to decide. At the river bank, the River God lived in the lap of luxury with his stone fortress and priceless objects. Here, nature gave the best of itself, and all it asked in return was to be appreciated, something Isabella could do without hesitation.

Dryads stirred as they watched their new visitor, brown bark skin crackling and twisting from tree trunks as they followed Isabella on her way down the hill. Their flower eyes stared, no longer unnerving her. A few reached down their vine fingers, depositing flowers atop her head like a colorful crown. Though Isabella had been warned of their fickle nature, these creatures were far kinder to her than the naiads ever were.

 _And the aurae_ , she thought grimly. The sting of Plia's betrayal was still fresh. Isabella supposed that she should have seen such a turn coming, that she bought this certain misery on herself. But it was lonely to be so isolated all the time. She had to go out on a limb and risk trusting someone, even if it caused her pain. Even if it were false, Plia's companionship made her days bearable, though now any good memories she had managed to make turned bittersweet.

The path deposited her in a clearing. A fire pit sat in the middle lined with stones and the ashes of burnt logs. Across the way sat a cache of basic weapons: nets and spears primarily. A boulder sat across the way, carved with unfamiliar markings; the only discernible feature was a drawing of a wolf. The familiar gurgle of water came from nearby, bringing back the knots in her stomach, though not nearly as badly as before. Rustling noises also came from the direction of the water. Whoever had brought her here was just down that way.

Gathering courage, she kept going until she reached the water's edge. It wasn't nearly as grand or powerful as the river. She could see to other side, possibly even cross it without a problem. The water moved quickly over top of smooth, weather-beaten stones. Fish weaved in between them effortlessly. It was the fish that the man clad in green robes at the shore was after, his toes sunk in the muddy sand, a net in one hand and a spear in another. A pile of fresh catches flopped in the grass a few feet away, silver scales glinting in the afternoon sun.

Somehow, the man heard her soft footfalls and turned to face her. Isabella recognized that bright white, dimpled smile anywhere.

"Ah, you have awoken," Jacob said serenely. "I trust your accommodations are to your liking."

He stepped away from the water's edge and deposited his fishing gear in the grass before approaching. Why a god would insist on catching his meals the old fashioned way, Isabella did not quite understand. Or perhaps it was for sport. It mattered not. She was just glad to be in such a pleasant presence.

"Yes, thank you. I feel more well rested than I have in ages," Isabella replied, taking a seat on a fallen branch across from him. "How did I get here?"

"You sounded the whistle," Jacob answered, pointing to the object that now hung on a cord around her neck. She fiddled with it absentmindedly. "Though the signal was weak, I was able to hear. I almost did not get to you in time. The aurae had created a formidable barrier."

"I couldn't breathe..."

"Yes," Jacob agreed grimly, his expression twisting into something darker before evening out. "Formidable yet terrible. By the time I carried you here, you were barely breathing. I had thought you were lost."

"Where is _here_ , exactly?"

"Deep in the heart of the forest. The domain of my brothers, the Shapeshifters," he replied with pride, raising his arms to gesture at the land around them. "You are safe with us. Your husband cannot reach you here, though he tried his damnedest to interfere with our journey."

It almost sounded too good to be true.

"Not even through the river?"

Try as she may, Isabella was unable to banish all of her fears. Living with her husband even for such a short time, she knew his fierce determination and reach. Any water seemed hostile.

"His influence is vast, but this is merely a branch of the river, a fork in its great road. It would take a considerable amount of power to reach you here. Though if you are still concerned for your safety, you could always avoid the water altogether."

"That may be best."

"As you wish," Jacob shrugged, unbothered. That was one of things she appreciated most about him: he did not push. He came to sit next to her, leaning in as if wishing to share a secret. "If you don't mind, I wish to know...why did you sound the whistle? I had not heard from you in such a long time, I had come to accept I never would."

"I had an accident," Isabella admitted, feeling her cheeks burn as Jacob's expression turned concerned, his dark eyes searching her for injury.

"Oh?"

His tone was dangerously light, one eyebrow arched suspiciously. She could only imagine what he was thinking, or how she had this supposed 'accident'.

"Twisted my ankle. The River God insisted on taking care of me until it healed. During that time, he was so sweet. I thought he was changing, becoming better. I had hope..." Isabella trailed off, feeling foolish for even thinking such a creature could change thousands of years worth of habits so quickly. "But that was all they were: hopes. Once I was well again, he showed his true colors. So I ran."

Jacob sighed, his shoulders slumping as the tension leaked from his muscles. He looked at Isabella fondly, as if marveling in a wonder.

"You are a brave woman to take such a stand. Mortals have been killed for lesser offenses."

"I realize that. Every day, I pray to whatever deities are still listening, thanking them for letting me survive another day."

"You will not have to do that here," Jacob insisted, placing a hand on her knee comfortingly. "Pray for survival, that is. My brothers and I will care for you. You have nothing to fear."

He looked so earnest, ready to protect her at a moment's notice. Isabella felt unworthy of such a loyal friend, though a more cynical part of her mind wondered what he could possibly want in return.

"I wish that were true..." Isabella trailed off, her mind still wandering to dark, airless places filled with infinite dangers. "Jacob, there is another reason, a less selfish reason, as to why I called you."

This caught his full attention, his body turning fully toward hers, brow drawn. "What is it?"

"Before I ran, I discovered a secret room in my husband's chambers. Inside he kept a number of priceless objects, the most important of which being a golden sword capable of striking an immortal."

Jacob's eyes went wide in disbelief. If she had not seen it herself, Isabella would have worn the same expression.

"You saw this sword with your own two eyes?"

"Yes. I watched my husband bleed as he touched it. I fear what he may do with such a weapon. Given his hatred for your kind, I can only guess it is a weapon of war."

The space between them fell into silence. Even the birds and bugs stopping tweeting and humming. It was if the land was overcome with trepidation, wondering what to do with the possibility of impending doom.

"This is troubling news," Jacob heaved a sigh, suddenly looking so much older than his youthful visage. "My brothers and I have always known the River God can be a challenging adversary, but this...this is a whole new level of treachery."

"I know. Which was why I could not stand by and let him go unchecked," Isabella explained. "I may not know you very well, but I have come to care for you, Jacob. I do not wish to see you come to any harm, especially now that I owe you an immeasurable debt for rescuing me during my time of need."

"Nonsense," Jacob countered, waving away her debt as if the idea were ridiculous. "This information is worth more than anything you ever could have given. Consider us even."

"Alright," Isabella agreed, feeling herself smile.

"I will bring this sword up with my brothers during our evening meeting. Until then, there is nothing more we can do," Jacob closed the subject, rising to a stand, towering over Isabella so that his shadow cast her into partial darkness. He went to gather his fish and then beckoned Isabella to follow. "Now, come along."

"Where are we going?"

"To fulfill a promise I made to you long ago."

They followed the path back to the pit and up the hill until they approached a hut not unlike the one Isabella had woken up in: a modest structure fashioned from bent cedar. The only difference was that this one was covered in flowers in myriad colors sprouting from the cracks and planks like weeds, covering the entire surface in a bed of blooms. Stones lined the path to the front, the opening covered in a doe skin. Jacob pushed it aside for Isabella, waiting until she had passed under to follow her inside.

A fire was burning in the pit in the center, the sweet smell of charred wood billowing out into the hole in the roof. Meat was drying over a spit - to which Jacob added his fish - while a pot of water boiled, presumably for the linens that lied in a basket off to the side. The whole scene was very domestic, making Isabella feel like she was intruding. Should she have knocked first? Called out to see if anyone was home?

Suddenly, a woman came out from behind a curtain of skins carrying a basket full of corn. Her robes were similar to the ones Isabella were wearing, making her wonder if she were borrowing from her. The woman seemed to be preoccupied, not noticing her guests until Jacob cleared his throat. Her head swiveled their way, and Isabella sucked in a breath, stunned at what she saw.

This woman's face, though beautiful, was marred on one side. It looked as if an animal had raked its claws vertically along her cheek, the serrated edges scarring over in wide patches. It was impossible not to stare. Try as she may, Isabella's eyes were fixed on the scars, ignoring the soft smile, kind brown eyes, and long braided black hair woven with feathers and beads.

"Oh my! Jacob, you startled me," she laughed uneasily, clutching at her chest. "If you are looking for Sam, he's still out hunting with the others."

"Actually, we are here for you."

"We?" she asked, glancing to Isabella curiously.

The woman stepped cautiously forward, eyes searching Isabella for some sort of answer as to why she were there, what made her special.

Finally, when neither woman could take the suspense anymore, Jacob said, "Isabella, meet Emily. She was once the River God's wife."


	11. The River God's Wives

A/N: Hello loves! I'm not sure why, but somehow the Shapeshifters are easier for me to write. I'm actually working on two chapters at once, so the next update will come pretty quickly barring any kind of freak accident like my computer dies (God forbid). Anyway, please enjoy the new chapter! No warnings for this one. I love you all and thank you for all your wonderful comments! You make my day! XOXOX

* * *

The River God's Wives

For a moment, Isabella was stunned. She was unable to move, unable to blink, unable to process anything other than the woman looking at her with the same amount of confusion and awe.

So this was her predecessor. Truly, Isabella did not know what she was expecting, but it was not Emily. Not someone youthful and beautiful, but she never envisioned a wrinkled old crone either. In her dreams, the wife always took on an ethereal quality, as if she were not quite there. Now that Emily was close enough to touch, Isabella feared that she might still disappear. That she would reach out only to discover a ghost.

No one had spoken in what felt like ages. Jacob looked unnerved, not expecting such a reaction, or a lack there of.

"Isabella is the River God's current wife," he supplied, breaking the silence.

"Ah, I see," Emily finally spoke, her shoulders slumping as if she remembered what she was doing before her day was interrupted. "Let me put down these things and make some tea, and we can talk further. Jacob, would you mind escorting Isabella outside?"

Jacob did as he was told and guided Isabella out of the hut through the flap Emily which came. This led them around the back, to a bountiful garden just starting to produce crops for the harvest. A set of chairs and a table were placed a few feet away, the only normal furniture Isabella had seen so far even if the chairs were low to the ground and the table hewn from drift wood. They sat patiently, waiting for Emily to finish her work and join them.

Isabella had so many questions she did not know where to start. She was not expecting to meet this woman; in all honesty, she had forgotten about the other wife. In between running for her life and broken bones, it must have slipped her mind. She felt silly for forgetting something so important, for abandoning her original plan for gathering the truth. Now here, at her fingertips, was an infinite resource of answers on her husband. Even if Emily did not know much more than Isabella, then at least they could exchange their theories and experiences.

What a relief it was to not feel so alone anymore. Isabella had felt alone ever since her mother died, even more so when she was Chosen, and ultimately so when she was sent across the river. Now, she felt the faintest glimmer of hope.

Emily came out from the hut a few moments later carrying a set of clay pots and cups on a wooden tray. It was obvious she was not used to visitors, yet she did her best to make sure both Isabella and Jacob were comfortable. She poured them each tea, the steaming liquid tickling Isabella's nose with hints of jasmine and honey.

"However did you manage to escape?" Emily asked before Isabella could ask any questions of her own.

"Jacob gave me a whistle when I first met him," she said, her fingers flying to the cord around her neck. "The time came when I could no longer bear the presence of my husband, so I sounded it. Jacob got to me just in time."

It felt like such a simple answer for such a terrible series of events. Or course, she glossed over the argument and a few other key elements, but why go into the nitty gritty upon first meeting. She didn't want to scare Emily off or have the woman thinking lowly of her.

"In time?" Emily asked, cocking her head as she sipped delicately on her tea.

"He had sent his aurae out to collect her," Jacob answered when Isabella found herself too choked up to reply properly. The memories were still fresh and vivd in her mind, hard to look back on without the overwhelming, crushing sensation of panic.

Emily grimaced, as if she knew that all too well. For all Isabella knew, the woman had endured her own share of vortexes.

"Praises be that you made it out alive. There have been many in your shoes that were not as fortunate."

"Do many of the wives escape?"

"Many try. All fail," Emily replied, her voice heavy with melancholy. "You are the only one besides myself who has made it away and lived to tell the story."

It was a sobering reality, one that made Isabella increasingly grateful to be alive.

"How did _you_ escape?"

"In a fashion similar to your own, though I suppose much more reckless," Emily said, her eyes drifting somewhere painful. "Quite foolishly, I told the River God I was leaving him for Sam. He did not take the news well, as you could imagine, and when I tried to run he had cornered me by the time I reached the water. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to run. So I jumped. The waves swallowed me whole and pushed me downstream. I could hear him scream for hours. How the naiads did not pull me under or my head crack against the crags, I do not know. When I awoke, I was on the shore of a creek miles and miles downstream with my love's eyes peering down at me. I was so weak, I rode the rest of the way here on his back. I slept for two weeks as I healed from the wounds my escape inflicted. Yet, if I had to do it all again tomorrow, I would change nothing."

Hearing her escape made Isabella's pale in comparison. What was sounding a rescue in comparison to battling waves for hours on end? Though she knew how to swim, Isabella knew she was not capable of such athleticism. It made her feel insignificant, like she was being childish for voicing any complaint about a little lack of air. She knew she was being ridiculous, that one could not compare traumas evenly, but it was hard not to.

"I had no idea your rescue was so recent," she opted to say instead, admiring the smooth, even quality of Emily's skin - not a wrinkle in sight. Did they cross paths in the village without her knowledge? Emily could not have been many years older than Isabella...

"Recent?" Emily scoffed, humor dancing in her irises as she quirked a smile. "No, dear girl. I have been living with the Shapeshifters for the past two hundred years."

Isabella was stunned.

"But...you look so..." she stammered, words failing her.

"Young?" Emily supplied knowingly. "One of the many gifts my love bestowed upon me was that of immortality. He could not bear to see me wither away, so he gave me an everlasting life by his side."

Suddenly, things made much more sense.

"You are a goddess?"

"Not in the conventional sense," Emily amended, and things were back to being utterly confusing. "I have no domain of my own. My power and strength draws from the Shapeshifters."

As if sensing the tidal wave of questions Isabella was about to spout, Jacob intervened.

"Granting immortality is different than granting godship," he continued, elaborating on the intricate subject. "There are very few creatures left in this world with the ability to divine a mortal being, and those that remain would hardly acquiesce to such a request. Everlasting life is easier to grant, though I hesitate to use the word easy. When my brother, Sam, granted Emily immortality, he shared his own. Their lives are forever linked, beating with the same heart, the same soul connecting them throughout time."

"That sounds romantic."

"That's how I like to look at it," Emily replied wistfully, unable to keep a smile off her lips though her next words were much more loaded. "Though it is also dangerous. Given that I am the weaker creature, there are those who would seek to destroy me in order to destroy my love."

"Sam is the Alpha, the leader of our pack. Without him, my brothers and I would be lost," Jacob said though there was something else in his tone that suggested this was not the whole truth. The thought of Jacob going mad without the guidance of another seemed absurd. He was so strong both in body and will.

"If I die, he dies," Emily added morosely, something akin to grief and heartache in her eyes.

Isabella shuddered. She could not imagine the weight of being responsible for not one life, but the life of another. To be so connected, so absolutely reliant on another to keep your own heart beating was a burden she did not know if she could ever carry. Emily suddenly became much stronger in Isabella's eyes, worthy of so much more notability than the River God's former wife.

"Do you think that the River God will try to come after Emily with the sword?" Isabella asked, voicing everyone's fears.

"It would be the swiftest way to ensure a victory," Jacob mused darkly. Emily did not seem perturbed by the discussion of such a grisly death. Instead, she seemed motivated by it, as if the thought of an attack brought her extra energy.

"There is no need to dwell on what might be," Emily chided, tilting her head towards the setting sun. "Come. We shall talk more over the fire and a hot meal."

"Yes, it would be a shame to arrive late for Isabella's first bonfire," Jacob agreed, his grim expression now replaced by that of amusement.

 _This ought to be interesting_ , Isabella thought to herself, allowing them to lead her back towards the center of camp.

* * *

When Emily had said 'bonfire', Isabella was expecting a small gathering around a flickering flame. She was not expecting a rowdy gathering of over a dozen half-naked men roughhousing one another around a roaring inferno.

Members of the pack were seated upon the large logs around the pit, the flames reaching so far up into the night sky that Isabella had to crane her neck all the way back to see where the embers sparked. A plume of sweet smelling smoke wound its way through the tree tops; it was a miracle they did not set the whole forest ablaze.

No one noticed Isabella and Jacob's approach, while Emily was immediately pulled into the fold, the men parting way and pulling her into quick embraces as she passed. They were like a dysfunctional family, one that knew no personal space.

At the far reach of the bonfire, sitting on a log all his own, was a man broader and bigger than the others. Unlike the rest, his tattoos expanded his whole torso, covering the tanned skin in intricate loops and waves. No one got too close, and those who did approached did so with reverence. He was the obvious leader, looking out on his brothers' behavior with practiced disinterest. His eyes were so dark they were nearly black, reflecting the orange glow of the fire as it danced. Those eyes were solely focused on Emily.

She approached so differently than the others, with a purpose, with a place. As soon as she reached him, he stood to pull her into a tight embrace, kissing her for everyone to see. No one said a word. Hardly anyone noticed. But Isabella did, her mouth going dry and her heart stuttering as she watched this blatant display of passion, jealous that she had never experienced such a love for herself.

Jacob encouraged Isabella to walk forward and follow in Emily's path. Her feet were sluggish, unsure of what to do or where to go, especially now that her presence had been noticed. The other men stopped their games to peer at her curiously, then look to Jacob for answers. He only kept his focus on what lied ahead, a guiding hand on the small of Isabella's back to keep her on track. Isabella kept her eyes trained ahead on the obsidian ones waiting for her at the other end.

"Sam, brother," Jacob said as he sunk to one knee, encouraging Isabella to do the same. It was a sign of obedience and respect.

"Jacob," Sam growled, curling his lip as he glared in Isabella's direction. "Why have you brought this human to our home? You know our rules."

"This is Isabella, wife to the River God," Jacob introduced, his head still bowed as not to anger the Alpha further. "She seeks asylum and in exchange offers valuable information on our enemy."

"How can we trust any information that comes from the mouth of one of his whores?" Sam spat.

Jacob's eye twitched. His hands curled into fists and if Isabella was not mistaken, a snarl escaped his lips. She had never seen Jacob engage in violence, but then again, she had never seen someone get under his skin as quickly as Sam. And with such baseless words! Had Sam not, in his own language, fallen in love with one of the River God's 'whores'? It seemed as though Emily was thinking the same thing, her expression twisted between hurt and comfort as she reached for Sam.

"What he says is true, my love," Emily confirmed, a soothing hand placed just above his heart. It was incredible what her touch could do to calm him. "At least hear him out. Do not be angry or punish this innocent girl. She could not control her fate, just as I could not control mine. I believe Jacob has come to care deeply for her, as you did for me all those years ago."

Sam's attention was brought solely to his love, fingers tracing gently, reverently over the ridges of her scars. He looked conflicted, as if torn between tossing Isabella out and giving into his woman's wishes.

"Fine, the girl is welcome here," Same conceded, though he did not seem happy about it.

Jacob rose, pulling Isabella up with him.

"Come," Sam instructed. "Tonight, you dine with me."

He was not the kind of man one says no to, so Isabella did as she was told and sat next to Emily on the log. Jacob sat next to Sam, leaving he and Isabella on exact opposite sides of one another, something neither enjoyed.

The spit that had been roasting in Emily's hut was brought out and passed around, each of the brothers taking their fair share of the kill. There were no manners among wolves it appeared, each one digging into the carcass with fervor. By the time the food reached Isabella, she had half a mind to politely decline her portion, but thought better. She did not want to appear rude, especially to Emily who was still watching her carefully. She pulled the smallest fish off the spit and passed it along. Sam was quick to rip off the largest piece of meat he could sink his teeth into. Thankfully Jacob did not appear to act as such a heathen, though if he were really that way or just doing so to humor her, she could not be sure.

"You will have to forgive Sam," Emily apologized. "He is wary of strangers, especially ones that have brushed paths with the River God."

"How did he ever come to trust you?" Isabella asked, the question on the tip of her tongue since the insult was issued.

"It was an unconventional love, to say the least. We fought for it, myself in the beginning and him later on. It was a hard won battle," Emily said, casting a glance back to Sam who was talking in low tones to Jacob - presumably about the sword, seemingly forgetting the two women. "He was not always this jaded. Once, he was open to share his heart and home with travelers. Then too many took advantage, and now he reserves his hospitality for very few."

Isabella mulled this over. While she could understand a wariness for strangers in order to keep the pack safe, Sam was unnecessarily cruel. She wondered what Emily saw in him that others missed. It was evident through their tender touches and glances that the Alpha harbored a softer side for Emily's eyes only, though what Isabella wondered was how he became those two separate people. How could he handle such violent emotions without getting washed away when the tides changed? Were all Shapeshifters this way? Her eyes flickered to Jacob again, lost in conversation with Sam. He always seemed so sure and steady, though he looked quick to snap Sam in half for his treatment of her.

"What did you mean earlier, that Jacob had come to care for me?" Isabella leaned in to ask Emily privately.

"I would think it were obvious," Emily replied, as though such things were simple to spot. "No man risks his life and the lives of his people for a mere mortal if other emotions were not involved. He sees something in you, something worth fighting for, and there is only one thing in this world for which a man will fight so strongly."

"Which is?"

"Love, my dear."

"That's ridiculous," Isabella spluttered, feeling her face flush with a heat that had nothing to do with the bonfire. "I am married...he is hundreds, thousands of years old."

"That is what I thought when I first met my Sam," Emily sighed wistfully. "What importance are years when you meet a kindred soul that sets your own aflame?"

Was that was Jacob did? Set her soul aflame? Isabella had not given it much thought if she were being completely honest. She knew that she enjoyed his company and his even temperament was far more appealing than that of her husband's. She knew that he smelled of earth and clay, but also of mountain grass and lilies. Warmth radiated from every pore of his body, seeping into her own skin when he touched her. And he was very, very attractive...parading around in nothing but a tunic tied at the waist did nothing to hide that.

But love? That just seemed like a ridiculous notion. A fairy tale, an impossibility for a married woman and an immortal Shapeshifter. Though she was estranged from her husband, he was still her husband, and she still wished to be a faithful wife. However lonely and terrible that may be. Even if that life was devoid of any chance at love or happiness.

The more Isabella thought about it, the more miserable she became.

Her eyes searched his across the fire, dark and gleaming and completely fixated on her. Isabella swallowed thickly and looked away.

Now that Emily had pointed it out, she was unable to ignore the desire lingering just below the surface. It was electrifying, heart-stopping. Those eyes wanted to swallow her whole, and all of Isabella's impossibilities were suddenly not so impossible after all.


	12. The Omegas

A/N: Hello loves! I know I'm being mean for that cliffhanger last chapter - mostly for what it implies for the ships. Some of you have been asking about who Bella ends up with. I know everyone is curious, but no matter how much anyone asks, privately or in reviews, I will NOT reveal the final pairing. Part of the reason I'm not posting the final pairing is because that seems like it's cheating the growth of the characters and their relationships throughout the story. If I were to post that Bella ends up with Edward, people would riot (and for good reason) because of his actions so far. If I were to post that Bella ends up with Jacob, I think half of you would ditch the story in an instant. So, as of right now, Isabella will be attached to both male leads and you'll have to wait until the end to see who she picks. Kind of like how it goes when you read an actual book with a love triangle in it! Sorry, I know I suck, but that's how it is. Anyway, I hope you're still able to enjoy this story with that added bit of uncertainty! Thanks for being wonderful readers and reviewers! I love you bunches! XOXOX

* * *

The Omegas

Days seemed to blend together in the forest.

While at the River God's palace, each hour was drawn out in excruciating boredom, each night a battle to be won, here Isabella could truly enjoy her time. She could spend whole afternoons talking to Emily or winding new routes through the forest. Mostly, she helped with the simple things: gathering wood, washing clothes, patching up wounds when friendly play between brothers took a turn towards deadly.

Her skin grew darker, freckles appeared across her cheeks, and she smiled more. Emily told her that the forest was to blame for her better moods. It had a way of easing the mind and grounding its inhabitants, allowing them to enjoy every moment. Sometimes, Isabella forgot that things such as the river or the forest had sentient properties, a magic so ancient not even the gods knew how it worked. The difference was that while the River God aimed to control the river's power, the Shapeshifters gave into the forest and let it guide them and in return it gave them its strength. Emily told Isabella that was the key to a good life, and why the River God would never truly be content. He would always be striving for something he could not obtain, though Isabella had a feeling that she was speaking about something other than the river as well.

Though she had many questions unrelated to the lore of the land, Isabella did not push Emily. She came off as a natural giver, someone who liked to talk and weave stories. Eventually, they would stumble upon the right topic of conversation, and more truths would leak out. Isabella was no longer as hard pressed for answers. She could wait as long as she needed. Now that she was away from her husband's toxic presence, it was like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and with it came ease of mind.

Now, she and Emily stood in the middle of an open field collecting wildflowers to dry. Baskets full lied at their feet and yet the meadow was still full of blooms. They had been picking all afternoon, though Isabella hardly felt tired. She had grown stronger; she felt it in her bones.

"I must admit, it feels nice to share the company of another woman," Emily said, carrying her baskets over to where Isabella stood.

"I agree," Isabella replied with a smile, pulling up a handful of lilacs. "The only other companion I had in the palace was made of wind."

"I remember my aura well," Emily mused, as if thinking back to a dream long past. "Zephyra, if I remember correctly. A curious little sprite. Always shying away from me and the answers I sought."

"Mine was named Plia. I thought we were friends, but she betrayed me. Though in the mistake of trusting her, I suppose I only have my own foolishness to blame."

"Do not be too hard on yourself," Emily chided, placing a comforting hand on Isabella's shoulder. "Such a hostile environment, starved from any friendly face, is enough to drive anyone desperate."

Isabella tried to take her words to heart, but could not manage it. She still felt foolish, like she had a larger roll in her untimely exit and the unseemly manner in which it happened. She had that whistle for days, weeks even. She could have sounded it at any point but still kept fiddling with it as if it were toy, unsure of how to use it. Only when the whistle was lost did she decide she needed it, like a child who had cast something away only to want it back at the first sight of it in another's possession.

If she were more proactive, if she had only acted on her heart instead of her unsure mind, she could have saved herself the pain of betrayal. Isabella would have never been as close to Plia or as indebted to her for healing her ankle. They would have barely reached beyond the master-servant dynamic. Instead, Isabella learned to lean on Plia as a source of information and comfort, and now she had to question if anything about their relationship was real at all.

"It sounds as though we had similar experiences," Isabella commented, trying to return the focus to Emily and not on her own misgivings.

"A snake such as our husband, so set in his ways, can easily shed his skin. A terror one day, and a gentleman the next, but he cannot change the venom that courses through his veins."

"Our husband..." Isabella noticed, confused. "You mean to say you two are still wed?"

"Seeing as though I took my oath and did not die, I am just as bound to him as you are," Emily replied simply yet tightly, the fact obviously displeasing.

"Is that why you do not call Sam your husband?"

"Yes," she sighed, as though the admission pained her. "By the laws of this land I am unable to marry another while my first husband still breathes, yet he is allowed to collect as many wives as he desires. Even though I am out of his reach, I can still feel the River God's hold. I will never truly be rid of him. Neither of us will."

"Then we are bound by the same fate. Sisters, in a sense."

Emily smiled, though it was laced with weariness. "Yes, the lucky sisters, the ones blessed enough to find a way out of a terrible life and forge a happier one."

 _Happy._ Still such a foreign word, though one to which Isabella was slowly becoming accustomed. Between the sun and the easy way of life in the forest, what did she not have to be happy about? Her nightmares plagued her less often; painful memories crept us less frequently. She could sleep without fear that someone was waiting in the doorway to sneak in and have their way with her. She could enjoy things without guessing at an ulterior motive. And yet, some lingering part of her mind wandered back to cold, stone walls and wondered about all the unhappiness she left behind.

"What do you suppose will happen to him now?" Isabella pondered, her voice quiet.

Was it ridiculous to feel badly for him? Was it shameful, given all he'd done? The Elders had taught her never to be cruel, to turn a cheek and accept that things on this side of the river were different. That a wife was to be gentle, loving, and kind. Isabella had done all those things and look what good that did her. But that did not mean that her heart had gone rigid. Though he had caused her pain, she felt ill at the thought of another creature suffering by her hand.

"The cycle shall go on as it always does. He will wait a year and wed another bride from the village," Emily replied with the same certainty one would use to say the sun will rise in the morning.

"And she will die."

Emily paused. A heavy silence ensued before she replied, "Yes."

It was a hard thing to hear. Emily had told Isabella that none of the brides, to her knowledge, had lasted longer than a year from their first arrival. Whether it be through a failed escape or some other means, they all met the same fate. Emily did not know how, nor did she always think that the River God was responsible, but nothing good came out of being a wife. Emily had watched generations of young women arrive wide eyed and eager to meet their husband, only never to return.

"Is there anything we can do to stop it?"

"My first few decades as an immortal, I tried to save those girls," Emily said, fingers running over flower stems idly before ripping them up by the roots. "I did everything in my power to get them to see what awaited them in the River God's house. But they did not listen, or if they did, it was far too late to change anything. They did not believe, and so I grew to accept that they would never come to believe."

"How? How could they be so blind?" Isabella asked, her tone taking on a whiny quality. Perhaps it was her frustration at the situation. Perhaps it was because of her refusal to believe that nothing could be done.

"You are not like the others, Isabella. You seek the soul of things, the essence of life. It is what drew Jacob to you like a moth to a flame," Emily explained, one hand framing Isabella's cheek, patting the skin lightly in a maternal gesture. "Most of those girls, like yourself, were so young...so naive and foolish. They heard the word 'chosen' and saw it as a blessing. They saw his lavish palace and servants and did not care about the man inside. All they cared about was living like a queen, and to have a wild woman come from the woods and try to take their things away...they would not stand for it."

Isabella was going to protest when a horn sounded from afar, low and rumbling through the ground. Emily's head snapped to the direction of the pit, her eyes wide and lips pinched. Whatever the horn meant, it did not seem good.

"What was that?" Isabella asked.

"Pack meeting," Emily replied, though outside of the evening hours, such an event seemed out of place. "Come. There is only one thing this could mean."

"And that is?"

"The Omegas have returned."

* * *

Emily pulled Isabella down the hill, their baskets long abandoned in the field. They were no longer important.

Emily was consumed with a manic kind of energy, nearly pulling Isabella's arm out her socket as she ran to the center of camp. They passed Shapeshifters harboring an equal amount of distress in their eyes, buzzing around as if unsure of what to do. Weapons were distributed, words of warning exchanged. Emily asked everyone she passed if they had seen Sam. Everyone told her to look towards the pit.

The pit was a flurry of activity. Until that moment, Isabella had never once realized how many Shapeshifters there truly were. In the shroud of night, their shadows all blended into one. In the light of day, she saw that there were dozens. Dozens of frantic, hyped warriors begging for a fight did not spell well for anyone.

Isabella lost hold of Emily who ran into the crowd towards Sam without hesitation. Immediately the panic set in. Isabella had no idea what was going on and her only life line had just abandoned her. She recognized no one and nothing. It was just a sea of bodies and spiraling tattoos. Being so much smaller, it was only a matter of time before she was trampled underfoot.

Thankfully, by some divine intervention, strong arms pulled her out of the fray and held her close.

"There you are," Jacob let out a sigh, surveying Isabella up and and down to assure that she was still in one piece. "Praises be that you are alright"

"What is going on? Emily said something about Omegas. What does that mean?"

"Nothing good," Jacob ground out, searching for a quieter, less hectic place to go.

Jacob was jostled by his brothers, encouraged to pick up arms which he refused. No one pressed him much though, as if expecting him to decline. Compared to the others, he was something of a pacifist. Isabella had no doubt he would fight for his home if it came down to it, but she admired that for a creature of such strength he was reserved in his displays of might. It was one thing to have power and another to use it wisely. This was where Jacob and her husband differed. While Edward put his power on display, Jacob held his in reserves. It would make for an interesting match, for she truly did not know who would come out on top if the two did have to go to war.

That was a war for another day. The battle now were these Omegas that seemed to be causing so much trouble. Sam was standing on top of one of the logs around the pit shouting out commands to those closest to him. Insults and orders were thrown in every direction, slurs aimed at one person in particular.

"Who is Leah?" Isabella asked Jacob quietly from where they now stood on the outer fringes of the group. She had heard the name muttered under breaths like a curse. Everyone was shifting nervously on their feet, buzzing with a manic energy. This Leah person must have been quite important to cause such a disturbance in the pack.

"The only female Shapeshifter, and a powerful one at that," Jacob replied, trying to peer over the heads of his brothers to get a better look. "She and Sam were mates for centuries...until he met Emily. Leah did not take the news of her replacement very well."

"I can imagine," Isabella agreed, feeling a pang of sympathy for this unknown woman. "Is that why she left?"

"One of the reasons," Jacob sighed, frowning as if debating whether or not to continue this story. "The night she left, the pack held a vote whether or not to grant Emily immortality. Sam, being the Alpha, held sway over the majority; no one wanted to oppose him, and for good reason. But Leah was well-respected, one of the pack's greatest providers and protectors. There were those who favored her over Sam that did not think including Emily was a good idea. They stood their ground but when they lost the vote, Sam cast them out as Omegas, the forsaken, for their disloyalty claiming they could no longer be trusted."

"How many were there?"

"Six. Leah, her brother Seth, and four of their staunchest supporters," Jacob replied, his eyes harboring an old pain, as if he were still mourning their loss. "We Shapeshifters are rooted in our traditions. Since Sam cast them out, they are no longer allowed contact with the pack. If we were to cross paths, we would be forced to fight for dominance of the territory. It is why they roam the outskirts in the furthest reaches of the forest."

"So why choose now to come back?"

"That has yet to be determined, though the reason would have to be a dire one. Leah is a skilled fighter. She would not take such a risk if it were not necessary. Just setting foot this close to camp is enough to invoke battle," Jacob said nervously. It was then Isabella noticed that he carried tension of his own, a nervous energy that rippled through his muscles and sparked in his eyes. "That is why everyone is so uneasy. When Leah left, she fought her way out. My brothers and I carried her wounds for decades. There is no telling what she will do upon her return."

Isabella mulled this information over, storing it in her ever-growing mental collection about the Shapeshifters. The puzzle was starting to come together, though she still felt as if there were pieces missing.

"Is she the one who did that to Emily's face?"

"No," Jacob replied, his tone tight as if Isabella had stepped into rocky territory. "And even if she were, that is not my story to tell."

Howls ripped through the far end of the clearing, wild and untamed. The pack stopped their squabbling, newly focused as six wolves burst through the trees, bolting towards the pit at lightning speed. At the head of this pack was a wolf physically smaller than the rest, but no less intimidating. Fur the color of steel shone in the sunlight, dark eyes fixed on Sam. It was a majestic display; Isabella was too busy being awed when she knew she should have been others halted when the grey wolf did, flanking its sides. Isabella heard the snap of bones, the tear of skin, and suddenly there were six human figures where the wolves used to be.

 _Leah must have been the grey wolf_ , Isabella thought to herself as she picked out the only female amongst the males standing in the center.

She held no shame as she bared her naked body to them, taking her time retrieving a robe from the satchel she had tied to her ankle. She was toned and tan and fierce, her scars only serving as warnings as those who dared to oppose her. Her hair was cropped bluntly to frame her chin, emphasizing her long, graceful features. A tattoo swirled on her upper arm, same as all the others, though it had been augmented by another hand. The loops and curls dipped to graze her collar bone and shoulder blade, marking her as inherently different. Sam did not seem to appreciate the gesture.

When the new Shapeshifters were fully clothed, Sam stepped forward and welcomed them, though he looked as though he would much rather eviscerate them.

"Leah, you have come home."

There was something smug in his tone, as if he were expecting her to come crawling back to him. Isabella felt a rush of hope that Leah would knock him down a peg.

"Do not think I have come to fall at your feet," she snapped, and the rest of the Shapeshifters growled at her impertinence. All except Sam who was locked in a war of wills with the woman across the pit. They stood nearly at eye level, and though Sam was physically larger, Isabella had a feeling that Leah knew how to best him in a brawl.

"Then why dare to show your face? You know the laws."

She smiled dangerously, as if daring him to make a move. For a moment, Sam actually looked hesitant.

"Word has reached my pack - "

"You have no pack," Sam corrected, enjoying the way Leah's face crumpled into fury.

"As you wish," she sneered, lip curled. "Word has reached your _rejects_ , who now choose to follow _me_ , that the River God possess a sword with the capability to slay our kind."

Sam actually growled. A low, threatening sound rumbled through the crowd. Weaker Shapeshifters actually whimpered and glance nervously to their neighbors. Jacob only sucked in a breath, as if preparing for a storm.

"Which one of you has been talking to the Omegas?" Sam demanded as he turned his sights on his pack. He looked livid, out for blood. No one volunteered any information, and Isabella did not blame them for keeping their silence.

"We deserve to know!" Leah insisted, her pitch rising. "Were you ever going to tell us?"

"You and the others forfeited all right to the security and knowledge of the pack when you left!"

"This is no longer politics, it is life or death!" Leah shouted, her arms flailing while her supporters stood in silent agreement behind her. "Despite our differences we have one thing in common: our enemy. One day you will need the strength of my _pack_ , and that day is sooner than you think."

"You think so highly of yourself Leah. Your ego will get you and your _pack_ killed," Sam spat.

"That may be, but it is your _pride_ that will kill _yours_ ," Leah fired back. Isabella swore she heard the pack take in a collective gasp.

Sam stiffened, yet he did not engage. Leah had stumbled upon a wound ages old, a wound she knew was still festering, and tore it open. Isabella could tell that Sam was a prideful man. In the moment, he seemed resigned to it. Perhaps this was a fear he often thought about in the dead of night, one he snuffed out in favor of believing that everything was within his control.

"We have nothing left to discuss," Sam dismissed, turning his back on his former mate. "Get off of my territory before I tear you limb from limb."

"Glad to see some things never change," Leah sniffed, looking as Sam as if he were a pathetic waste of her time. After all, she had travelled all this way and risked her life, as well as the lives of her pack, for nothing. Sam deserved so much more than her disdain. He deserved her fury.

Leah whistled and her pack fell in line behind her. They moved through the crowd which parted for them instantaneously. The pack gave them wide berth, as if they had the plague. Isabella did not have to be told that it was a shunning technique. She had experienced such things on her own during her time as a Chosen, forced into life as a stranger in her own village. It was a fate she would wish on no one.

"Leah..." Jacob cut her off as she passed. A risky move, but one she allowed.

"I do not know why you follow him, Jacob," Leah sniffed, looking upon him as if he were some kind of disappointment. "We all know who the true Alpha should be, and it is _not_ that _brute._ "

Whatever words Jacob was going to say died on his lips. Leah pushed past him and he did not try to gain her attention again.

When the Omegas were out of sight and Sam claimed he could no longer pick up their scent, the sun had sunk half way down the sky. Dinner would have to be forsaken that night as there was no game caught to be served, something Isabella's stomach did not agree with but she did not complain. She was just grateful things did not end in a bloodbath.

A few of Jacob's brothers gave him odd glances as they passed by. As the only one to talk to the Omegas, Jacob risked being outcast himself, but no one approached. No one said a word. Sam merely glared Jacob's way, the two men staring each other down before Sam gave in and turned towards Emily. He stroked her hair lovingly, embracing her tightly as if assuring himself that Leah would not be able to take her away.

Jacob averted his gaze and began walking towards his hut. Isabella followed closely behind. His behavior complied with his need to talk to Leah had her suspicious.

"Were you the one to tell her?" she asked.

It wasn't that she cared one way or another. She would not judge his actions if that was what he feared. She simply needed to know, and after coming from such a dark and uncertain place, she needed transparency. The wonderful thing about Jacob was that he knew that and understood her compulsions. Even though an admission could get him in trouble, he let himself be honest with her.

"I let the word loose to the dryads in the hopes it would reach her...I can only hope I did more good than harm," Jacob confessed, looking torn.

"You were right to let them know," Isabella said, placing a comforting hand on his chest which he covered with his own. "I may not know the politics of your people, but everyone has the right to protect themselves."

Jacob sighed, as if trying to come to grips with the situation. "Sam can never know of what I did."

"And he never will," Isabella assured firmly. She would not turn on him, not after all he had done for her. Still, there was something else that weighed on her mind, another curious part of the exchange that had Isabella's mind spinning trying to connect the dots. "What Leah said, about the true Alpha, she didn't mean you...did she?"

"Another story for another day," Jacob replied wearily, not as a rejection, but a promise of something to come. "It is late, and time to retire for the night. I can escort you back to your hut, if you wish."

While it was not the answer she was looking for, she respected his wish for space. She understood that she had pushed him far enough for one day and didn't want to rehash painful memories on top of the day's turmoil. So, taking his arm, she allowed him to escort her up the hill. They parted in front of her doorway, and Isabella wondered as she watched him disappear down the trail when it was that she started wanting him to stay.


	13. The Beach

A/N: **Warnings** for sexual content. If I get a mass unfollowing from this story, I'll understand. I had someone say that if I were a "true Jacob writer" then I would post the pairing and by not doing so I was pissing off fanbases. I respond here by saying that I am not a Jacob nor an Edward writer. I am a Bella writer, and more importantly a story writer. I don't write for ships, I write for the plot and the worlds I create. When did that become such a bad thing? Anyway, that is the last I shall ever say on the topic. I hope most of you can enjoy! Sorry for the wait - I was working on my submission for the Age of Edward contest, which you all should totally go support and vote on when the time comes. Can't take credit for the "women like you drown oceans" line in the first part - that goes to the amazing Rupi Kaur. I just really love that quote and thought it was fitting given the context. Thank you for being wonderful readers/reviewers/people in general! XOXOX

* * *

The Beach

"Where have you taken me?" Isabella asked, peering from overtop of Jacob's shoulder.

After the uproar of Leah's visit, Jacob had insisted on taking her on an adventure partly as a distraction but also as a way to get out of Sam's way. He was in a particularly foul mood after seeing his former mate, and had taken to snapping at anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way. Jacob did not want Isabella to fall prey to his antics, and so they both decided that some space would do everyone some good, especially since Sam was on the war path for Jacob more than others. Jacob said it was because he dared to talk to Leah. The look in Sam's eye as he watched them leave spoke to something more.

Still, Isabella let it be. Whatever spat was between the two Shapeshifters was for them to work out on their own. This was not her fight, and if Jacob needed to run from his problems for a little while, Isabella was the last person to judge. She hopped onto his back per his instruction and held on as he shifted into a wolf and ran them through the trees at lighting pace.

Soon enough, the trees thinned and the wind picked up, the smell of salt stinging in her nose. The salt stung at her eyes as well, causing Isabella to screw them shut until Jacob was moving slow enough to where it was not longer painful.

They came to a halt, Isabella sliding down from Jacob's back and landing on soft, squishy ground. It was cooler here, the temperature giving Isabella a bit of a chill before her body could adjust to the change. She opened her eyes, but the sun was glaring and she was forced to shield them, turning her gaze downwards towards the bronze, graveled ground. _Sand_ , her mind supplied, though with that came many more questions.

Jacob trotted off a ways, his tail swishing behind him, as he went to transform privately. Though Isabella knew it caused him no pain, it was still gruesome to hear the cracks of joints and grunts of growth as he went from wolf to human. She spent the time digging her toes in the cool sand, trying valiantly not to get it in her robes and failing.

"It's safe to open your eyes now," he instructed, the tell-tale snapping of bones gone signaling that Jacob was fully human.

She looked up to find Jacob good as new, not a hair out of place nor rumple spied on his green robes. The only sign that would give away his change was the faint glean of sweat plastered across his bare chest which he was trying his best to subdue from the rush of running so far so fast.

"Where have you taken me?" Isabella repeated, a bit breathless.

"Do you not like it?"

He seemed genuinely disappointed in her lackluster reaction, but how could she like _this_?

"So much water..." Isabella gasped as she looked out over the vast expanse of blue. It was all she could see from side to side and as far as he eye could spy over the horizon. There was no other side, no distant shore. Just an endless expanse of roaring blue waves. It made her heart stutter in her chest, made her throat close up and lungs seize as if in reflex to the last time she tampered with those who favored water. "We should go back."

"Relax, Isabella," Jacob chuckled, holding her to his chest as she tried to scamper away. What a frightened creature she must look like to him, what a child. "This is not the river, but the ocean."

"Ocean?" Isabella asked, the term unfamiliar.

"A thousand times deeper and wider than the river could ever hope to grow - a continent comprised of blue abyss, and completely out of your husband's reach."

A tiny sliver of her panic faded. Jacob had not lied to her, had never fed her mistruths. He had no reason to trick her, no reason to deceive her. If he said that this was out of the River God's reach, then she believed him. Slowly, she peeled herself from Jacob's skin to give the view a second chance. No waves came out to suck her away, no storms brewed in the distance upon sensing her arrival. This place was truly something different, filled with an unrecognizable energy.

"Who lords over such a place?"

"A being far older than I, that much is sure," Jacob replied, a twinge of awe in his voice. "No one has seen the Ocean God in nearly ten thousand years, though it was rumored his might was so great that even now the lesser deities dare not tread on his domain out of fear he will awaken from his slumber and strike them down."

It was an amusing tale, though a lot of it sounded like lore. Though, in the land of gods and monsters, lore was just another name for the truth.

"Why bring me here?"

"I like to visit this place when I feel lost, or when I am struggling. It puts the universe into perspective. It reminds me that we are all part of something bigger, something more magnificent than ourselves."

It was hard for Isabella to envision the gods as anything less than grand. Her whole life, they had been large and all-encompassion while humans were small as ants beneath their feet. Now, to have Jacob speak as though he were an ant made Isabella reimagine herself as something even smaller: a speck of dirt or a grain of sand - just another microscopic, insignificant addition to the larger whole. It was a terrifying idea to entertain. Though, when Jacob reached down to hold her hand, she felt much larger, as if his attention had made her important once more. Surprisingly, it was he who looked small, as if he needed her to make him feel large.

"Are you lost or struggling now?"

"I am not sure," he said, shifting his gaze to where the waves crashed onto the sand, stirring it up and turning it over and over and over again. "Seeing Leah and the others brought up...painful memories. Things I am not proud of."

Jacob flinched, and Isabella took that as a sign not to pry. He had been so good at answering her questions; she would not force him to answer something that he was not comfortable with just because he resolved himself not to deny her. She owed him that much curtesy.

"Has Leah gone for good?" she asked instead.

"I am not sure, but she has left for now and only time will tell if she returns."

"Does it please you that she is gone?"

Jacob's brow furrowed, thinking long and hard on the question.

Isabella could tell that there was a long, tumultuous history between the two. The fact that Leah had allowed Jacob to step into her space without ripping his head off meant that she still harbored some kind of hope or respect for him. The fact that Jacob would have risked isolation from his pack to speak to her also confirmed this. And then there was Sam allowing the exchange to happen at all. Isabella was clamoring to find out, but she willed herself to be patient this time. These people were not like her husband; they would tell her in their own way in their own time.

Now, all she could do was lean on Jacob and offer her support for him, no matter how he felt.

"Not particularly," he sighed at last, looking somewhat guilty. "It makes me sad to see my family so divided. I can still remember a time when we were one, united pack. We were stronger then, a more formidable force."

The nostalgia in his tone was unmistakable. It resonated with Isabella, who remembered a life with her father so vividly she could almost imagine that this beach was the river bank on her side of the village and the gulls that screeched overhead sang the song of the heron and sparrow instead. What she would not do to have that life back...she could not blame Jacob for wishing for the same.

"Do you think Leah would ever betray you out of spite? Turn you over to the River God?"

"Leah is many things, but she is not a traitor," Jacob replied resolutely, gaze still focused on the water. "She said it herself: if there is one thing we all still agree on, it is our common enemy."

"Then there is hope for you yet."

Isabella tried so hard to remain optimistic for his sake. She had no idea what the true odds were, what the likelihood of Leah coming around to fight this impending fight were, but she had to try. Sometimes, it took fresh eyes to shed new light on an old situation, and if she could be Jacob's lighting rod, she would be more than happy after all he had done for her.

Jacob finally looked over at her and smiled a tenuous smile, as if he might have actually believed her.

"I suppose so," he conceded. Then he started walking forward towards where the waves met the sand and beckoned her to follow. "Come on."

"I prefer the view from over here, thank you," Isabella politely refused. Though she had come to relax at the idea of the ocean, that did not mean she wished to frolic in it and push her luck.

"Do not fear the water," Jacob replied, smiling easier now that the focus had shifted from his problems onto something less painful. "It does not bite. Much."

"Easy for you to say," Isabella fired back, nervous laughter on her tongue as she inched forward so that the sea sprayed up to soak the hem of her robes. It was cold and sharp against her skin yet refreshing against the heat she had grown used to...and the heat that stemmed between them. "You are a god. What is the ocean in comparison to that?"

"Oh Isabella, but what am _I_ in comparison to _you_?" he teased, though it was a strange kind of teasing, a soft kind that made it hard to tell if Jacob were serious or still playing.

"Still a god."

"True, I may be a god, but women like you drown oceans."

There is was again, that feeling of something more lingering under the surface. Isabella was unsure how to respond, unsure of anything other than how important and how grand Jacob wade her feel in that moment, and the fact that they were only a breath away felt too far. Like the whole ocean stood between them and she wanted nothing more than to cross it.

"I am not too sure what that means..." she whispered, enjoying the feeling of his breath on her cheeks, warm despite the invading cold.

"Let us find out," he suggested.

Then, the warmth was gone and more cold splashed across her legs as she realized that Jacob had pulled her into the path of an oncoming wave. Soaked to the bone, she had no choice but to chase after Jacob and give him a taste of his own medicine.

* * *

The sun had set by the time Isabella and Jacob returned to the pack. The fire was burning for the normal dinner gathering, but Isabella did not feel like joining - if only because she was wet and in desperate need of a fresh change of clothes. Jacob was content to leave her at her hut, and they parted ways. It was still a bittersweet feeling to watch him go, and though he was only down the path, the distance felt like it had early: as if they had whole oceans to cross.

Inside, Isabella started up a fire and pulled off her wet robes. Her bare skin puckered with goosebumps as the night air stole through the hut. The nighttime robes were white and thin, allowing her to dry quickly. Still, dry and warm, Isabella still felt a chill. It had lingered from the beach, stealing into her bones, and she could not stop the notion that Jacob was the only thing warm enough to chase it away. What a fire he was! As if he kept the heat from his russet fur even after the coat had given way to bronze, perfect skin...

Isabella shook her head, desperately trying to rid herself of ridiculous notions. It was not her place to think that way of a dear friend, her only friend in this place.

Well...not _only_ friend...

Peering out her door, she saw a trail of smoke illuminated by the moonlight billowing from Emily's hut, and not wanting to be alone, Isabella made the short journey to her place.

She passed under the skin to find Emily seated on the edge of her bed, weaving something on a loom. The brightly-colored string was dyed in indigo, fading to other shades of purple, blue, and red as the fabric was pulled taut. Whatever it was meant to be had yet to be completed, but the pattern was hypnotizing. No doubt, it would be a masterpiece.

But the beauty of the masterpiece was dampened by Emily's obvious distress.

"What is wrong?" Isabella asked, hurrying over to the bedside. "Oh, Emily, why are you crying?"

"It's nothing," she denied as she batted Isabella's hands away. "Sam and I...we had a disagreement is all."

"Because of his mood?"

Emily nodded, though she kept her attention on her work, pulling the thread in between the fine teeth of the loom. "He has been in a right state ever since you and Jacob left. Nearly intolerable, even for me...I could not stand to see him this way any longer, and after what happened earlier...well...I suppose it is best to stay away for now, better to keep myself where he cannot reach."

"Did he...hurt you...?"

"What?" Emily asked, pulling back as if startled. "No! He did not hurt me."

There was something about her frantic response, so clipped and closed-off, that spoke all the words Emily could not.

"But he has...in the past, hasn't he."

It was not a question, but a statement that was confirmed a moment later when Emily subconsciously reached up to trace over the scars that marred the side of her face.

"You do not understand, not yet. It was my fault. He was shifting and I got to close a-and..." Emily warbled as she shook her head, tears spilling over wide brown eyes. "Even this one accident...it was nothing compared to what awaited me at the River God's palace. The things I saw, the things I endured..."

"You do not have to tell me," Isabella soothed, trying to calm Emily. She had never seen her so worked up; usually the older woman was a calm, serene cornerstone of the pack. Now, she looked far more human and vulnerable than immortal.

"I want to, just not tonight," Emily apologized with a watery smile.

"It can wait," Isabella reassured her. "We have all the time in the world."

Emily nodded, the irony of the statement not lost to her.

"I have to go," she threw her hands down uselessly into her lap, head canted backwards to scoop up tears so they would not stain her cheeks. "I told Sam I wanted to talk at twilight. I have to meet him and I am already late."

It was hard for Isabella to watch such a strong woman struggle. The paradise of the Shapeshifters had now been tarnished with a little bit of reality, a small stain on their perfect veneer. Part of Isabella wanted to hold Emily back from Sam, to protect her, but Isabella knew that she was no help to an immortal who had been protecting herself for two centuries. Emily could handle this. She would not walk into the wolf's den unprepared. And though Sam was rash and prone to anger, Isabella believed that he would not hurt Emily. She had left him to protect herself at his worst and he did not follow. Now, hours later, they called to convene. This was a cycle; not a perfect one nor one she would ever want for anyone, but a cycle they perfected.

"I understand. Go to Sam," Isabella pushed gently, knowing that was where Emily's heart was calling her. "Do not keep him waiting."

"Thank you, Isabella," Emily said, leaning down to place a kiss on her cheek. It was an intimate gesture, a familial one even. It warmed her all the way down to the tips of her toes. "You have been a good friend to me. I am glad the gods pushed our lives together."

Isabella returned the sentiment and the two of them walked out of the hut together, going their separate ways. From the top of the hill, Isabella watched Emily make her way down the path towards the fire pit where all but dying embers flickered, the glow far less formidable than before. When Emily was no longer visible, Isabella reentered her own hut, unsure of what to do next. It was rare that she found herself at a loss, though she supposed the normal rounds of daily chores had tired her out by this time. The excursion to the beach had disrupted the routine, and now she found herself full of listless energy.

Perhaps she should have taken a loom from Emily's hut and taught herself how to weave. That would have used up time. But she had not thought to plan that far ahead, and there was very little in the way of entertainment in the hut. Strangely, her fingers itched for the golden harp her husband gifted, the only thing she longed for that remained behind. It had felt like years since she last played, though it could not have been more than weeks. She wondered if the Shapeshifters had any equivalent to musical instruments, and made a note to ask Emily in the morning.

Out of options, Isabella took to humming as she made her bed for the night, pulling around a variation of colored blankets across the cot. When she heard a rustling at her door, she smiled at the possibility of a pleasant distraction.

"In need of more advice?" Isabella teased, expecting to see Emily when she turned around.

Instead, it was Jacob.

"My apologies, did I scare you?"

"No, I just thought you were Emily," Isabella said, her heart not settling even after the startled feeling had left.

"Oh, well I can see where you would get confused. Our likeness is quite extraordinary."

He was teasing her, lips curled up into a smile as he chuckled. Isabella's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment and slight anger at Jacob.

"Why are you here?"

"You forgot this at the beach."

Jacob brandished the whistle, polished wood giving off a dime shine in the glow of the fire. Isabella gasped and a hand flew to her throat. She had not felt the absence of its weight, and felt terrible for being so negligent.

"I did not even notice it was missing."

"Because you do not need it anymore," Jacob said, stepping in closer to place it around her neck. "There is no reason to call when I am by your side."

Isabella could practically feel the energy jumping from their skin. The brush of his fingers at the base of her neck, tickling the baby hairs that curled at her nape, the solidity of his chest standing just behind her - each point of contact feeling as if it were on fire. When she turned around to face him, she noticed that Jacob's eyes weren't just darker than usual, but his pupils had eclipsed his irises. She started breathing rapidly, her heart pounding in her chest just as it had when she was thinking of him earlier.

However, instead of pulling away, Jacob leaned forward and captured her lips in a kiss, all that energy pouring into one climactic embrace. It sucked the air right out of her lungs, but this time the pain was a pleasant one. Kissing Jacob was exhilarating, like every nerve in her body was flayed open and left in the middle of a storm. She felt like a sense of urgency, like there was not enough time to commit every single detail of every single second of this wonderful, incredible moment to memory. The feel of his long silky hair between her fingers, the smooth surface of his lips as they shifted and slid across her own, the way his calloused hands reached up to cup her jaw as if she were delicate, something to cherish.

Jacob's arms wound around Isabella's waist and picked her up effortlessly, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, enjoying the meeting of their bodies as they moved towards the bed. She tried not to think about the morality of the situation, about the husband she left behind and the implications of her actions. Instead, she decided to focus on the ripple of Jacob's arm muscles as he held her, how his grip flexed on her thighs, how the space between them kept getting smaller and smaller, crossing their ocean at a rapid pace.

They stopped at the foot of the bed, and Jacob bent down and deposited Isabella gently on her back, the blankets dipping as they accepted her weight and then his as he settled over top of her. It was easy to rid themselves of robes, the fabric slipping easily from shoulders into puddles on the floor next to them. Isabella would have thought it uncomfortable to be naked in front of Jacob, so bare to a man she was not wed to, but reality was quite the opposite. The way Jacob looked at her made her feel desired, like she was a work of art. He kissed his way down her body, nipping and teasing the skin as he went, leaving little love marks all over her torso, down her navel, the dip in her pelvis and then -

" _Gods_ ," Isabella moaned as she felt his lips on her, his tongue lapping wide circles around her swelling folds. She had never been touched like this before, never been tasted in such an intimate manner. Edward had not had the thought nor care to take his time with her body, but Jacob had a way with his mouth that made her sing a song of passion as ancient as the Muses themselves. It did not take Isabella long to find release, fingers threaded through Jacob's hair like yarn through a loom, hips canting upward as she chased pleasure.

No sooner had she been sated by his mouth, then he used his hands, fingers finding their way through the snatch of dark, curly hair that trailed down to maidenhood, his thumb rubbing lazy circles while he inserted two finger inside her. Isabella's hips stuttered forward as he curled them up, pressing into a spot that had her already sensitive body writhing. Her hands were fisted in the blankets, mouth babbling a string of nonsense - mostly pleas for more and cries of pleasure - Jacob's name falling off her tongue as easily as her own.

She had already been brought to ecstasy twice before Jacob thought of his own needs. Isabella gazed hesitantly yet yearningly at the sight of him, rigid and erect against the hardness of his muscle. Beads of sweat formed at his brow as he forced himself to wait. Jacob grasped the organ in his hand and stroked languidly, hungrily devouring the sight of a post-orgasmal Isabella. She must have been quite the vision: breasts heaving, nipples pert, body covered in blooming love bites, and legs spread open like a wanton thing, her maidenhood red, swollen, and dripping. Jacob was ravenous for it.

"You are absolutely beautiful," Jacob breathed reverently, leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss.

Then Jacob entered her, and the rest of the world faded away to pure bliss.


	14. The Laws of Nature

A/N: Hello loves! Before I get any more hate mail, I just want to make one thing clear: Yes, Isabella and Jacob are going to have sex. Not every scene, but enough that their relationship will be very present in the upcoming chapters. Sorry if this offends you. Honestly, in an M-rated story where Bella is involved with both male protagonists, I don't know how some of you didn't see this coming. That being said, **warnings for brief sexual content**. Anyway, the topic of conversation gets kind of weird in this chapter, but I promise it's important in the future. Hope the majority of you can enjoy! XOXOX

* * *

The Laws of Nature

The lovers woke in the morning far later than the rest of the pack. There would be no mistaking what had happened, especially not when they were the only two who had yet to show their face. However, neither one cared, and instead they spent the morning hours in comfortable silence, basking in the sunlight and each other's presence.

Isabella felt a strange sense of completeness. She knew she should feel terrible. She had betrayed her wedding vows and lied with another man, the enemy her her husband at that, but she could not bring herself to be troubled. Instead, she felt calm, at peace. And she felt Jacob's touch as he traced feather-light patterns up and down her spine. His chest was pressed up against her, the steady thrum of his heart beating through her back so that her heart and breaths fell in time. It was an unfamiliar yet welcome feeling to be held in such a manner, to be encompassed by Jacob's warmth, strong muscles protecting her though she knew the only thing they had to fear was the judgement of the pack. But that was another worry entirely; nothing to ruin this moment over.

"What shall I make of this vision?" he pondered, eyes still lazy and content from a good night's sleep as they scanned lazily up and down her bare frame. Though she could not see him as her back was turned, she could feel his gaze boring holes through her skin.

"Make of it as you like," Isabella answered, just as content.

There was a pleasant ache in her bones, a stiffness that she was in no hurry to reprieve. Her entire body was aglow with a new kind of energy, the kind that made her feel invincible. Was this was immortality felt like? This burning, raw kind of power that amplified every second? Because lying next to Jacob, she could feel every inch of his skin against hers, each point of contact alive and overwhelming her senses. It drove her mad in the best way.

Jacob rolled her over so that they were nose to nose, close enough so that she could feel his breath puff against her cheek, so that he could capture her lips in a sweet, hesitant kiss that held none of the urgency of the previous night, but all the desire and more. He took Isabella's breath away, and when he pulled back, she felt herself chase him, not willing to let go just yet.

He only chuckled.

"What should I do with this?"

The whistle had fallen off again during some point in the night. It was proving itself difficult to keep track of, though it looked rather at home in the palm of Jacob's hand rather than large and unwieldy in her own.

"Hold on to it for me?" Isabella asked, peering up into those deep dark eyes. "You seem to be far less forgetful than I. It is safer in your hands."

Jacob nodded, taking the whistle from her. He covered her hands with his own, lowering lips to place feather-light kisses along ridges of her fingers. They tickled, and she could not withhold the giggle that escaped her mouth. Oh, how childlike she felt! How absolutely giddy! Try as she may to keep a sober mood, she could not stave off this intense happiness that warmed her from the inside out.

"What does _this_ mean...for us...?" Isabella wondered aloud, unable to meet Jacob's intense gaze.

Isabella dared not think she could make herself so important to someone as timeless as a god. How many mortals had he seen, watched wither away and die, their short life spans so insignificant for someone whose life spanned infinite eras. She was a speck, a blip on his never-ending timeline, nothing more. While Jacob...well she was not sure what Jacob was to her, though he was becoming more and more essential by the day.

"My heart seeks what it knows it cannot have," Jacob sighed, breath ghosting across her cheek. "You belong to someone else, and yet..."

"I belong to no one," Isabella rebuked, her eyes burning with something fierce. "Not anymore. Never again."

"Forgive me..."

His apology was swallowed by the crash of her lips on his, soft and insistent.

She welcomed Jacob back into the cradle of her hips and he slid inside her with a low moan, both of them enjoying the way they fit together so perfectly. This bout of love making was different than the night before. While last night was a whirlwind of unspoken thoughts and feelings, this was slowly and hazy, unrushed in its race towards ecstasy. Jacob took his time learning every inch of skin on her body, fingers and lips tracing every freckle, every curve and every scar, mapping her as if she were some uncharted land that he dedicated to put to memory.

His hips accelerated, stuttering as they both neared their release. It was just as exhilarating the second time as it was the first. Perhaps she was becoming addicted to this man. That had to be the only explanation for such desire, for a need that lingered long after the satisfaction of coupling.

Lying there in the afterglow of ecstasy, Isabella wondered what game her treacherous heart was playing.

* * *

Like any good thing, the morning had to come to an end.

They could not hide away in Isabella's hut forever. Jacob had pack business to attend to, and Isabella needed to check in on Emily as well as help her with any lingering chores. Reluctantly, they parted ways, promising to see each other in the evening when all work was over.

After changing into plain brown day robes, Isabella found Emily up the hill and a ways into the woods where the trees hung low enough so that ample branches broke off for kindling. There was a basket of her pickings laid a few feet from where she hunched over a mound of fallen wood. Though she had already gathered a substantial amount, it would take much more to stoke the bonfire at night. Isabella had come to find that out of all the tasks, this one was most daunting.

"How are things with Sam?" Isabella asked as she approached, putting herself to work as soon as she spied a stash of her own.

"Better," Emily smiled much more genuinely than she had the night before, much more at ease. "He apologized as soon as I arrived. Got down on hands and knees and begged my forgiveness for what he said. Do not tell him I told you, or he would deny it."

"The woman who can tame the alpha is a woman to be feared indeed," Isabella teased.

"And you?" Emily countered, seeing straight through Isabella's veneer of false normality. "What has you so giddy this day? Surely, it is not the twigs."

To emphasize her point, she tossed more branches into the basket where they rustled against their brothers and sisters.

Isabella flushed at the thought of telling Emily what had transpired. Though, she should have expected someone as observant as she to notice the change. It was foolish to think she could trick Emily.

"It's Jacob," Isabella said, unable to form more words without getting flustered.

"Oh?" Emily asked, arching an eyebrow. She stood upright now, giving Isabella her whole attention. "What of him?"

"He and I...we..."

Isabella was unable to continue, wringing her hand like some shy child. She was a woman now! This should be easier to talk about! Then why was it hard to speak without getting tongue-tied or having her throat close up? Her emotions were wild, uncontrollable, and she hated it. Thankfully, Emily was wise enough to glean her meaning.

"Truly?" she asked, eyes wide with surprise.

Isabella only managed to nod.

"Well, then I must offer my most heartfelt congratulations to you both," Emily said warmly, reaching over to embrace Isabella which she heartily returned. "It has been quite some time since I have seen Jacob happy, and I am glad to know you return his sentiments."

"It is more than just sentiments. When he isn't here, I crave him. I want him beside me, around me, inside me. I took him inside and it were as if he completed me. Without him, I feel empty. I want all of him always," Isabella confessed, her emotions sending her through a whirlwind. "Am I mad? Tell me, Emily, is this what insanity feels like? Because if it is then I never want to be sane again."

"You are not mad, Isabella," Emily smiled knowingly. "No, I know your affliction quite well. You are falling in love."

"Is love nothing but carnal desire?"

"At first," Emily replied. "Then it evolves. It becomes more passionate as you learn one another, draws you closer until you cannot imagine a life before they were in it. Soon, it is not about the lovemaking at all but the act of becoming one, the merging of your kindred souls."

"How is it - with Sam I mean?"

"He is...gentle," Emily said, unable to keep herself from smiling. "He puts on a brave front for his brothers, but in our tent he touches me as if I were made of glass, something precious, something to be worshipped. He cares only for my pleasure and thinks little of his own. And when we come together...I swear by the gods I see stars."

"You make it sound so...magical," Isabella sighed, wishing she was as eloquent with words. How had Emily managed to so perfectly capture the feeling Isabella had been trying all morning to describe?

"And with Jacob?" Emily prompted, curious but not overtly so.

"He is...cautious. But also generous? It is hard to explain," Isabella tried to find the words to properly describe being with Jacob. "I can feel his desire for me, and he showed it in such _incredible_ ways, but there were times when it felt as though he did not know what to do with me."

"I suppose that is to be expected," Emily sympathized. "Mortals are hard to come by in these parts, and bedding a woman would not be worth the amount of energy it would take to travel to your side of the river."

"Given that knowledge, he was surprisingly skilled," Isabella said, correcting her interpretation of the evening with this new information on her freshly-minted lover. "Perhaps gods are just naturally more inclined in the art of seduction."

"The boys have their ways," Emily shrugged, confounding Isabella who stared at her intently, expecting an answer. "They take care of each other's needs, as brothers do. Sam encourages the pack to engage in such behavior to keep up their stamina and quell any building frustration."

"So you mean to say Jacob knows what he is doing, not because he has lied with women but because he has lied with...other...men?"

"Why do you sound so hesitant? Such relations are as natural as man and woman," Emily insisted, at first irritated at Isabella's narrow-mindedness until realization dawned on her. "Ah, yes, forgive me. I forget how conservative the village was. So foolish, trying to box the gods into certain roles, never once thinking that there were things in their divine nature far out of the limited understanding of mortals. Though, to be fair, it wasn't until I helped birth a few godlings that I was more open to possibilities."

"Godlings? You mean to say _children_ spawn from these trysts?"

"Dear girl, how else do you think new gods are born? Not everyone goes around offering divine power to mortals."

"I always assumed through natural birth," Isabella said, while in all honesty she never gave it much thought. Obviously, Isabella knew about the mechanisms of sex, but the Elders had never told her much about the process of child-making or childbirth. There was no information on whether it was the same or vastly different from the mortal way. Pregnancy was something Isabella thought would just...happen. Or perhaps she would wake up one day with a baby in her arms. Now, talking to Emily, she realized how childish that all sounded. "Though I suppose if that were true, the River God would have more offspring...or any at all."

Emily's expression clouded and the mood sobered. Isabella was shocked how quickly Emily went back to picking up sticks, as if she had forgotten her reason to be happy.

"Children between mortals and gods are unnatural creatures. They are not meant for this world," she said curtly.

"How do you know?"

There was more angry stick sounds as Emily threw them onto the pile. It was evident Isabella had hit some kind of sore spot, though she could not imagine why or how the conversation had turned to something so serious.

"When I first arrived in this land, I too dreamed of a life by my husband's side. I dreamed of children filling his vast palace, of music and laughter, and we would be happy. Imagine my surprise when I arrived to find that he already had a child."

"What?" Isabella gasped.

 _A child? He had a child!_ All her time in the palace and there was no sign of any children ever taking residence within those stone cold walls.

"While he shielded the truth from you, our husband was frank with me. He told me that his previous wives had all passed and that the babe was the last remnant of the woman he had so freshly lost in childbirth. But the child was dying too. It did not look right, so small and pale with shriveled arms and legs. I was terrified. The River God had given up on it - never visited nor held his son - but I tried to save the poor creature. Nothing would work. I had no milk to lend from my breast and it refused all manner of foods. It never slept, never rested. Three weeks later the crying stopped, and we knew what it meant."

Emily had to stop for her own sake and collect herself, and a tense silence passed between them.

"When his son passed, the River God did not even shed a tear. He instructed the aura to get rid of it and just...moved on. I did not understand," Emily shuddered, a chill running down her spine as she finished her tale. And tears, they pricked her eyes at memories that still stung even after all these years. "He was so cruel afterwards, as if he could only see my failure to keep his child alive."

Isabella did not know how to feel or how to react to such a story. It shattered so many things she had come to believe about her husband and her fellow wives. However, one thing stuck out alarmingly.

"They had _all_ died?" Isabella asked, searching for clarification which she unfortunately found in Emily's nod. "How? Did they all run away as you said or-or was it something else?"

"I am not sure. The one before me died from the complications of childbirth but I cannot think she was the only one. As for the others who did not run...I do not know. I only know that that palace is no place for a mortal woman nor their children."

Unknowingly, Isabella's hand flew to her stomach. She had never been so grateful to not have fallen pregnant during her husband's first and only attempt to bed her. She had never been so grateful to stand her ground. To carry a child to term only to die...and then have it follow in death...seemed like a horrible waste of a beautiful life.

"So...has Jacob...ever...you know...?"

"Sired children?" Emily finished, seeming to enjoy teasing Isabella with the ways this conversation unnerved her. "Yes, twice actually."

Isabella was dumbstruck. She was not expecting a yes, the word ringing through her ears but not traveling to her brain, as if she could not reconcile it.

"I can't imagine him looking so...wide."

Emily laughed, nearly doubling over, though Isabella did not know what she had said that was so amusing.

"Gods are not born the same way as mortals," Emily explained, wiping the sweat from her brow as she went and gathered up more sticks. "Mortals are pushed from their mothers into the world as tiny screaming masses that require years to mature. When a Shapeshifter is born, normally he spawns from the ground in which both parental seeds mix - sometimes fully grown, other times in various stages of development. Conception does not happen every time, not even most of the time, and there is no telling what set of circumstances will lend the forest to donate its magic to instill new life. Normally, it is in the case of a death or a shift in the balance of power."

"If they are born from the ground, then why say you helped birth them?"

"Had you ever seen a Shapeshifter birth, you would not ask that question," Emily laughed, and Isabella could tell from the seriousness that backed her playful tone that the birth a much more gruesome, violent affair than she was aware of.

"What about Leah? Can she have children through her own body?"

"Leah is barren. She will never have children," Emily replied, the first semblance of sympathy for the woman she claimed to hate slipping through. "The blood that courses through the veins of a god, the golden ichor, is meant to be the strongest, purest substance in existence. It increases strength, longevity, and virility. For men, this means an increase in stamina and other physical advantages. For women, this means no weakness, no tender times when your body betrays you. Ichor is not meant to be spilt or wasted on something as fickle as the promise of a child."

"What about you?"

"I may not have ichor, but I am still immortal. Many of the same rules apply," Emily said, her eyes deeply pained, as if this were a hard accepted truth. "I have not bled in nearly two hundred years. Even if I were still able, I do not think my body would be a hospitable environment for a child."

She seemed so despondent to this truth, as if her unborn children were something that she was still grieving. It pained Isabella to see her this way. Emily would have made such a wonderful mother, and the cruelty of immortality had robbed her of the chance.

"Do not worry for me, Isabella," Emily insisted, grasping her hand with a gentle squeeze. "Focus on yourself. You are still young. Your body is fit and in its prime for bearing children."

"You just told me that any child I sire with a god will be doomed to die," Isabella reminded, feeling uneasy about the notion of having children now that she knew the risks of incompatibility.

"I only know that of children sired by the River God. No mortal has ever sired a child with a Shapeshifter before. Sam turned me before we had the chance." "For all I know, you and Jacob could have a dozen godlings and live your lives happily in the forest until the end of days."

Momentarily, Isabella allowed her mind to wander. She saw a green glen filled with blooms on a bright summer day. There were little feet tripping over themselves on the soft grass, giggling as they ran from a man with long dark hair and dark eyes. Isabella saw herself sitting a ways away, cradling another little bundle to her chest as she watched the scene longingly. In this vision, her heart was full of all the things she had almost let go of. In this vision, everything was perfect.

"That is a lovely fantasy," she sighed, and Emily squeezed her hands in comfort.

"You are in the land of the gods, my dear. Fantasy is just another word for reality."


	15. The Call to Arms

A/N: Hello loves! I'm here with your reminder that (in case you didn't notice) this is a story of gods and monsters. In classic Greek myth, Zeus came to a woman in a golden shower and got her pregnant. Athena sprang from his head fully formed. Apollo took male lovers frequently and named flowers after them. Weird shit happens. Bisexuals exist. Get over it. Also, yes guest reviewer, I do know that by being vague I am losing potential readers and that some people find Jacob boring, but I don't much care. I'm not going to pander for views by writing to please a certain audience. Anyway, enjoy the chapter! Lots going on! Plot is picking up! XOXOX

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The Call to Arms

The sun hung hazy in the sky as Isabella basked in its light.

Grass tickled on her bare skin, yet she felt the callous pads of fingers far more prominently. The poked and prodded gently at her curves, tracing familiar paths down her spine, the hill of her buttocks and down her thigh. She sighed contentedly as she leaned back into a broad, muscular chest.

 _Strange, to think how fast things change,_ Isabella mused as she plucked cattails from the ground.

She and Jacob had volunteered to take fishing duty this day, no one bothering to think much of it except for Emily who gave her a teasing, slightly disapproving glance. Isabella only felt a sliver of shame for abandoning her friend on laundry duty, but she could not pass up the chance at another adventure with her Shapeshifter.

Of course, when they reached the creek, not much fishing was done at all. Instead, they chose to rid each other of their robes and do as lovers do. Now, they both lied contentedly on the shore, enjoying the companionable silence and the gurgle of the stream.

"What are you thinking about?" Jacob asked, lips against her ear sending pleasant shivers down her spine.

"I am thinking about time," she answered honestly, plucking another flower from its stalk, pulling the petals idly. "How much has happened since my arrival."

"Time is a thief, or so they say. Not that I would know," Jacob replied, and she could feel the smile gracing his lips on the back of her neck.

"It is a thief, and yet, I wonder..."

"Wonder?"

"Wonder if it is simply misunderstood. After all, time cannot be all bad. It brought me to you."

"And you to me."

Jacob leaned in and rolled Isabella over so that he hovered above her. Looking up, she was taken aback by his beauty, and questioned for the infinite time how she gained the attention of a god. She always thought he could do better, could find someone far worthier of his affection. It would certainly be easier and bring him less trouble. Though, when he leaned down to kiss her, all of those thoughts shattered and all she had room to think of was how perfectly they fit together.

Their kisses gained momentum, turning from signs of affection to grasps for more. Hands wandered to sensitive places, rubbing down the hillocks of her breasts and further, while her nails scraped lightly against his shoulders as she held on while he touched her _there_. Isabella gasped, still shocked at how one touch could awaken something so violent within her.

"If you keep doing that, I will not be able to stop," she moaned, eyes rolling back as he applied more pressure.

"What makes you think I want to stop?" he teased. Isabella did not need to see him to picture the large grin gracing his visage.

"This will be thrice now, and while I adore your ministrations, I am not sure my mortal stamina will be able to return the favor," Isabella said sheepishly, batting her eyelashes as she tried to play innocent. Jacob only looked confused, brow drawn as he tried to glean meaning from her words. "You know..."

Isabella's arms roped around Jacob's waist, pulling him in closer until her hands found purchase in the skin of his ass, squeezing it gently. Jacob only gasped, then went red in the face with understanding.

"You have been talking to Emily," Jacob groaned, trying in vain to pull away, though Isabella supposed he was not trying his best or it would be easier for a god more than twice her size to free himself from her loose grip.

"Of course I have," Isabella giggled. "What else do you think women do when they convene?"

Jacob tossed his head back and groaned.

"Do not be embarrassed," Isabella implored, enjoying the way his cheeks flushed. He was so gorgeous with color on his face. "I think it is endearing that you have children. My only qualm is that you did not tell me sooner."

"It is not the easiest topic for me to talk about," Jacob explained, averting his gaze. "I did not want to sire children, but the choice was not mine to make."

"I disagree. The choice is inherently yours when it comes to such a delicate matter," Isabella opposed.

"Perhaps in a simpler world," Jacob replied, looking pointedly into the distance. He sighed, realizing that there was no getting out of this story, not now that Isabella had him cornered. "It is important to know that all members of the pack are brothers through our shared bond as Shapeshifters, but we do not all share the same ichor. When Sam came to power, he demanded tribute from each member of the pack to ensure that no one would try to revolt. However, he demanded more from me. He demanded a greater show of submission, and there is none greater than to be dominated by the Alpha. To please him and to ease the tension between my brothers I did as he requested. Neither of us thought that the forest would chose to grant life that day, though it makes sense for it to sprout from two of the strongest members of the pack."

"That sounds horrible," Isabella lamented. She knew what it was like to be taken advantage of, and would not wish that cruelty upon anyone.

"My twin sons...Quil and Embry...they sided with Leah during the split. I have not had direct contact with them in the two centuries Emily has been with us."

He sounded so heartbroken, so tired, as if this were still a wound that openly festered. How could it not? Isabella could not imagine the pain of losing a child. Though not lost to death, a silent separation was no better. In fact, it sounded worse. To have the people you love most cut you out and shun you, that sounded downright unbearable.

"Jacob...I am so sorry."

"It is not your fault," he assured, a hand on her knee. "Sam may have forsaken his family for Emily, but I was not strong enough to stand up for what was right. I did not fight hard enough for what was mine. I feared so badly what would come from opposing Sam; I feared the packs splitting in two, causing civil war, only to have it happen anyway. It is why Leah thinks so poorly of me now, why I try so hard to make things right. Perhaps if I had chosen differently, things would not be as they are now."

"You gave up the power of Alpha," Isabella surmised, reading the meaning between the words he left unspoken.

"Yes. I threw away my birthright, and the forces above deemed it fitting to punish me for my cowardice by ripping away my children."

"That was not forces above. That was Sam."

"That was a decision made by the entire pack," Jacob refuted, unable to see things any other way. "The decision to forsake my duty was my own. Now, I must reap the consequences."

"You do not have to punish yourself so severely," Isabella implored, reaching out to console him. "You could not have known the path life would take you down. No man, no matter how great, not even a _god_ , may ever divine his fate."

"You see things so naively, Isabella," Jacob said, looking down at her with sad, sparkling eyes. "I do not mean it as a slight, as it is one of the reasons I love you. But you have the limited knowledge of your sixteen years, while I have the knowledge of millennia. My fate need not be divined, as I have already seen it laid out before me, and this is it. My fate is to carry the burden of my failures."

"Then you need not carry them alone."

Hands reached up to delicately cup her face, fingers tracing over her cheekbones as if she were made of glass, something beloved and precious. The look in Jacob's eyes was that or pure awe and gratitude. His kiss was as sweet and gentle as honeysuckle. Without speaking, his actions conveyed his gratitude. And while Isabella could never truly understand his suffering, she let her lips speak all the promises to try her hardest to help him through.

Parting, Jacob turned his head to the horizon, taking in how much time they had wasted.

"Go wash off," he instructed, gesturing to the creek. "I suppose I should attempt to catch something before dusk as to avoid even more suspicion."

"That is wise," Isabella concurred, getting up and brushing stray blades of grass from her calves. "I shall join you in a moment."

Isabella stood on her toes to kiss Jacob. It was a parting peck, nothing more, and the two went their separate ways - Jacob upstream and Isabella downstream. The water was deeper there, better for bathing, and it was better to see fish through the shallower rocky rapids farther up. Isabella only hoped he managed to get enough to feed them at least. This excursion had been a far walk, and she was quite hungry, her stomach growling and twisting in knots.

Shedding her robes and folding them neatly a few feet from the shore, Isabella stepped into the creek. The water was cold, but not unbearable, as to be expected this far into the forest. They were near the foothills which led to the mountains, and it was well into the snowcap melting season. All the fresh, frozen snow liquidating into crystal clear streams that wound down the mountainside and fed into larger waterways, including this one. The creek came up to her collarbone, gooseflesh pricking up and down ever inch of her skin as she fully submerged herself into the calm current.

Something slick brushed past her ankle, and Isabella jumped.

 _Must be the fish_ , she told herself, feeling foolish for getting so scared. After all, she was the one who was invading their home.

But then she felt it again, the same glide across her leg and it became harder to imagine this was just a fish. A school? Was Jacob looking in the wrong place? Perhaps she should get out and tell him. Yes...that was a good idea.

Isabella turned to head back, moving as quickly as she could through the water. But the currents started to pick up, making it harder to cross, and she tired fighting against the tide. The creek should not even have a tide! This was madness! The quality of the water had darkened. Unable to see through to the bottom, Isabella found herself stuck in the middle of the creek, panicking and completely alone.

And then, the slick creature brushed up against her for the third time, but this time it lingered. It wrapped itself around her ankle and pulled, dragging her under the surface in a single, fluid motion.

Eyes were not designed to open under water yet Isabella forced them open anyway, frantically scrambling to free herself from whatever had her in a bind. She twisted, pushing hair out of the way to find herself face to face with a creature she thought she would never see again. Terrified, she let out a gasp, precious bubbles of air escaping from her lips as the silver-scaled creature gaining maniacally with its needle sharp teeth.

A naiad!

This should not be possible! She was too far from the river for her husband's influence to reach her, and yet there it was, one of his creatures off to drag her down to the deepest depths of hell. Its claws sank into the tender flesh of her ankle, blood staining the pristine water as Isabella thrashed. Tried as she may, Isabella's body was not made to navigate the water as the naiad's was. Every action was clumsy, took up too much valuable energy. She was running out of air, her lungs screaming for more while the surface grew further and further out of reach. Since when was the creek so deep? Had she already been dragged so far downstream?

Her vision swirled as water invaded her throat and nose, stinging as they penetrated her body, causing her to keep sinking. It got harder and harder to stay awake, eyelids drooping, the world growing darker, and all she could hear was the unearthly screech like grating on metal that could only be the naiad's sick, perverted version of laughter.

But then the hold on her ankle was gone. The naiad stopped making noise and water surged near her ears, deafening her as it passed. Isabella was propelled forward at such a force that she felt as though she were flying. Her head broke the surface, her hair plastered to her like glue, though her lungs still would not work. Even when she was placed upon the grass, she could not gather the will to be relieved. She was just so tired...

Lips were on hers, pushing air in and increasing the pressure where water was gathered in her chest. Pressure between her breasts, heavy and quite painful, pushed the water up and out, stinging through her throat as she sat and threw up puddles of the clear liquid mixed with milky bile. Her mouth felt raw, her windpipe burned as she drew in air in greedy gulps. Her vision stopped spotting, her ears ceased ringing, and all she could think about was hold cold she was - chilled right to the bone.

"Jacob..." Isabella managed through chattering teeth. Her lips felt like ice, and it hurt even to speak.

There was only time for her to focus on those dark, expressive eyes for a moment before they were gone. Isabella heard the snap of bone and an absolutely haunting howl that made her shiver for a whole new reason. Russet fur surrounded her, circled her protectively as the wolf snarled at its prey still splashing near the shore.

The naiad hissed as it pushed itself half out of the water, resting on a nearby rock with fangs protruded and ready to lunge. It looked ravenous, absolutely murderous, still eyeing Isabella as if it were not yet done with her.

"The girl is not yours to protect!" the creature spat at Jacob, claws outstretched. Jacob growled and snapped his jowls. Isabella could only imagine he was cursing up a storm in wolf-speak.

How grateful she was to have him. How lucky she was that he was able to sense her distress and find her before more permanent damage set in. Isabella found herself curling up in a ball, leaning towards her protector as she realized how close she had come to death. She always knew that this side of the river was inhospitable to humans, but in the forest she fooled herself into thinking she was safe. She began to realize she was no safer here than in the River God's palace. He could always get to her, could always find her and pull her back whether it be with the aurae or naiads.

Jacob snapped a few more times, making it clear that he was not in a forgiving mood and would sooner rip the naiad's head off than play nice. Blessedly, the creature understood the message and valued its own life over her master's mission. It slunk back into the water, glaring Isabella's way with those large, glassy eyes before disappearing under the surface.

A few moments passed before Isabella allowed herself to relax. Then she sobbed, hunching over her knees as she cried. She knew she was being weak, that she should have been happy to have survived, but she was just so tired of being scared, and to have another potential home ruined was beyond devastating. After losing so much, she had thought that she had finally found some shred of normalcy, of happiness. Now, it was all gone.

"Come," Jacob said gently, brushing wet hair from her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. In her panic she had not even noticed him turn back. "Let's get you back to the pack."

Isabella nodded deftly, arms reached up in a childlike need to be carried. Jacob obliged and picked her up bridal style, allowing her to bury her face into his chest so that she could block out the rest of the world in favor of the sound of his heartbeat. It was a long journey back to her hut, but Jacob did not once complain. He had his thinking face on, brow furrowed and darkened. What had happened not only affected her, but him as well. And whatever he was thinking, only no good could come from it.

* * *

Later that evening, as all the Shapeshifters gathered around the bonfire, Isabella and Jacob told their story.

They glossed over the intimate specifics but when it came to the naiad attack, to the creature's foreboding words and killer intent, to the lacerations it left on Isabella's ankle that required immediate treatment by Emily, they left no detail out. By the end of the tale, the pack had gone quiet, mulling over the implications of what this meant for everyone else. What it meant for them now that they had chosen to harbor the River God's wife. Many faces were pale, others were drawn and filled with outrage. Sam was surprisingly quiet, frowning as he let Jacob carry on with minimal interruptions. Emily held his hand the entire time, much more emotive than her stoic counterpart.

"And you are sure this was a naiad?" Sam asked, seeking continual confirmation. "Not just some other wayward water spirit?"

"I am certain," Jacob repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. "I know what this could mean for all of us, what it could signal, but there is no denying the creature I saw. No other creature could inflict that kind of damage."

The pack broke out into conversation. Dozens of voices chimed in their opinions. Surprisingly, Sam did not snap at them to be quiet. In fact, it was Jacob who seemed to dominate the stage. There, in the light of the fire, standing at full height in front of his brothers, Isabella wondered how she never noticed his natural place in the pack. He looked every inch a leader. And with Sam bent over with his head in his hands, the rightful Alpha was even more prominent.

"So...the River God has indeed expanded his influence. The question is...how?" Sam asked, looking conflicted. Every so often, his gaze would flicker to Emily. It was evident that he worried for her safety, as she was not only the weakest link, but the direct line to his own demise.

"That is what we do not know," Jacob admitted. Though he was taking control, he was still searching for Sam to make the final decision.

"Do you think it has anything to do with the sword?" Isabella suggested. "It has the power to kill a god, but what of its other properties?"

"I would think it unlikely that a single weapon be capable of so much," Sam replied, not snapping or dismissing her as he usually did. If that was not a sign of the severity of the situation, Isabella did not know what else did.

"Whatever it is, this has gone too far," Jacob concluded, voicing what everyone else was thinking but was too afraid to say. "We have been passive about the sword for too long, and now this? I think now is a good a time as any to make our move."

"And what move is that, exactly?" Sam challenged.

Being so blatantly pushed seemed to stir some of his old fire. He stood to come face to face with Jacob in a battle of wills.

"We strike against the River God while we still can," Jacob answered, a frenzy of murmurs erupting from his brothers. Judging by the outburst, there was a clear divide of opposition and support. "If we move now, we will still have the element of surprise. He would never expect such a blatant break in the treaty."

"While you make a compelling argument, it is not as simple as crossing into his lands and making a stand," Sam countered, moving back so that he could pace. "This requires skill and tact, a longstanding strategy - not little godlings running into the fray with their spears and shields."

"Then we will prepare," Jacob replied with fervor, more than worked up. "But we have no more room for dallying. It is now or never. You are the Alpha. Your decision is the final one, but please, heed this counsel. The River God came into _our_ territory and unleashed one of _his_ creatures onto our ward. Think of what else he may be capable of with a month's more time. I do not wish to see us dead in our sleep."

"Neither do I."

The two men stared at each other for the longest time, holding a silent conversation that everyone waited to see the outcome of. Isabella held her breath. She did not know if Sam was going to step down or throw Jacob to the ground. Either option seemed likely as tensions mounted.

Then, the broke.

"So it is decided," Jacob said.

Sam nodded. "Ready our brothers. For tomorrow, we set out for war."


	16. The Village

A/N: Hello loves! Sorry it's been a while since I updated. Adjusting back to grad school life was rougher than expected. But I'm feeling creative and am itching for a new project now that this one is well underway, because that's exactly what a writer with two stories already in process needs, right? Right! So I've put a poll up on my profile page with a few options, and I'd love to see what the reception would be to these ideas. Please, if you have the chance, go give them a look and vote :) If it makes you more inclined, the pairings have already been specified so there is no uncertainty like with this story. Thanks bunches! I hope you enjoy this chapter! XOXOX

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The Village

Isabella was up before first dawn.

Surprisingly, she was not the first to wake. In fact, it was the sound muffled orders and the smell of bonfire smoke that drew her from her slumber. Heavy footsteps thumped up the dirt trail, the thin walls of her hut doing nothing to muffle the noise. In her dreams, she was able to temporarily forget about the nightmare building around her, the drums of war, but now there was no mistaking what was happening. Grim melancholy tainted the air, making it bitter to breathe.

Turning over in her bed, she reached out only to find the other side empty. It was still warm, the impression of Jacob's body still left in the blankets. He must not have been gone long, thought that did nothing to ease Isabella's mind. She hoped that she had not missed him, that he had not left with his brothers before saying goodbye. Judging by the commotion, she supposed that he was probably somewhere in the camp, and that she should hurry to try and find him.

Robes were harder to pull on in the dark, the shadows making it impossible to tell if she had all of her layers lying the right way. Her hair would have to remain a mess for the time being, fingers making quick work of more obvious knots.

The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon as she exited her hut and walked the familiar path to the gathering place, the first glimmer of golden rays bursting through the treetops. All the flowers on the trees reached greedily towards the light, dryads snapping and twisting their twiggy bones to soak up what the nighttime deprived them. Isabella wondered if they knew the severity of the unrest that ran through their wood. Isabella wondered if they even cared, or if they were as removed from the worries of man as the forest itself.

A blaze was roaring in the pit, Sam standing on the far side as he convened with two of his brothers, neither of whom Isabella recognized. More Shapeshifters were seated on the logs, fingers dipped into paints of all colors. They drew patterns on each other, blunt lines mixed with swirling loops and other symbols that were unfamiliar to Isabella's mortal eyes. She wondered if they would make her wear the paint as a sign of her allegiance to the Shapeshifters, but the thought was fleeting. Jacob was not among these painted warriors either, and so she moved on.

The creek held no sight of Jacob either, nor did the surround fields. She was running out of places to search when a hand reached out to gently grasp her wrist.

"Isabella," came a familiar voice, and she turned to find Jacob standing right behind her. She let out a breath of relief, glad he was still around. However, he was quite a different vision now: covered in red and blue paints that covered his entire torso, leather shoulder pads and gauntlets strapped across bulging muscles, feathers and shells decorated in his braid worn like distinguishing medals. He was an intimidating sight, especially with a shield and spear. However, those eyes were still the same soft brown, and still held affection for her that ruined the hardened warrior person. "I was just going to fetch you."

"I was afraid you had gone."

"Without saying goodbye? Never."

He leaned down and pulled Isabella into a crushing kiss to prove his point. She could taste the desperation on his lips, the possessiveness in his grip that told her that he never wanted to let her go. She never wanted to let go either; she wanted to stay in this fantasy land they had created where they could spend all their days by the creek in the sun, enjoying being together without a worry in the world. She didn't want to give that up just yet, not when she had just found it. She didn't want him to leave for war.

Unfortunately, that was not reality.

"You said you were going to fetch me?" Isabella asked once they parted, gathering her racing thoughts.

"Yes," Jacob nodded, coming back to his senses. "Come with me."

Isabella laced her fingers through his and let him lead her through the commotion. She would be lying if she said the situation didn't scare her. Seeing the Shapeshifters preparing for war was chilling to watch, not because there were many of them, but because of the way the few numbers managed to feel like an entire armada. They radiated power, chests puffed out and dark eyes eager to let their inner beasts out. In their wolf forms, they would be even more formidable. For a moment, she pitied her husband, for there were probably no words to describe the fear and awe upon seeing a hoard of bloodthirsty wolves descending upon your home. But she did not pity The River God for long, for she knew that whatever destruction they had in store, he readily deserved.

Their path led them down stream, following the edge of the creek until it grew larger and wider. They must have been walking for at least an hour, the sun now displayed in full radiance, and Isabella was growing concerned. She did not like being this close to the river for obvious reasons, and the bigger it grew, the stronger her husband's influence became. She was an easier target the further they went, and she found it hard to remain completely calm. She had to remind herself that she was with Jacob, and he would never put her in harm's way.

When they reached a thinning in the wood, Jacob stopped. The river bank was gently sloped here, the water lapping against the sediment as if welcoming them to wade in. Turning to look at the rest of her surroundings, Isabella noticed that there were a few bags of supplies nestled in the thick roots of one of the bigger trees. Jacob reached down to shoulder them before passing them on to her. Looking inside, she could see supplies : dried foods, extra robes, flint, and other various items.

Finally, the concern and anxiousness grew too much for Isabella to bear, and she asked, "Where are you taking me?"

"Home," he replied brusquely as he busied himself counting supplies.

"Home?"

Isabella had no home, not anymore. The closest thing she had found to a home on this side of the river was Jacob, but he looked suspiciously like he was preparing to ship her away.

"Back to your village across the river. You will be safer there."

For a moment, Isabella thought she had misheard him. It was not possible to do what Jacob was suggesting, at least, so she thought...

"You can do that?"

She must have sounded like an awe-struck child, because Jacob looked upon her kindly and with an amused smile.

"Yes. Travel across the veil is draining, but worth the risks of exhaustion if it means keeping you out of harm's way."

While the thrill of returning home coursed through her veins, Isabella's spirits could not help but be dampened by the implication of Jacob's words.

"Am I truly in that much peril?"

"It is too soon to tell, but I fear so. The River God sent the naiad after you. He wants you dead, and that is something I will not allow," Jacob swore, an intensity in his eyes unlike any other Isabella had seen. "I shall take you back to you village until this war with the River God is over. When the battle is won and the forest is once again a safe haven, I will come back for you."

"And if you do not win?"

She hated to even ask. Though the Shapeshifters were strong, she knew her husband, and he was anything but weak. He would put up a fight. No one on either side was pulling through unscathed, and she felt ill at the thought of how many Shapeshifters would be injured or lose their lives to this fight.

"Then my brothers and I will die defending what we love most, and you will live the rest of your days in the comforts of home," Jacob replied stoically, having planned everything out. "I feel as though that is a rather good ending for a tragic one."

"As much as I have longed to go home, I cannot have you die either," Isabella confessed, feeling her eyes well up. "I cannot bear it."

"Then I will do everything in my power to win," Jacob swore, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "Now come. My brothers will leave soon and we are running out of time. I will shift and carry you through the veil to the other side, just be sure to hold on and not let go, no matter how hard it gets. I promise so long as you hold on, nothing and no one will take you."

Isabella nodded obediently, and shouldered the bags, shaking though she was not cold. It was all the trepidation, all the thoughts running rampant through her mind, from the terror of losing Jacob to the thrill of returning home to the intimidation of having to face her father once more. Would her father even recognize her in these robes with her loose hair and sun-kissed skin? Would she recognize him, or had he become a ghost in her memory just as she had become one to him the day he sent her off?

Jacob shifted into his wolf form, the paints transferring from his bare chest to color the russet fur. He knelt on his haunches so that she could mount him, admiring the way his muscular frame could carry her plus the added weight of supplies with ease. She grabbed purchase in his fur, fisting whole clump fulls so that she would not fall. She hoped that he was not in pain. After being so kind, Jacob deserved only kind gestures and treatment in return.

Slowly, Jacob waded into the water, paws padding at the shore as if to make sure of its safety. When he was certain they would not drown or be sucked under by malicious spirits, he all but jumped in, the cool water chilling Isabella as it drenched her robes. She was nearly waist deep in it, frantically doing her best to remain calm. She focused on feeling Jacob's pulse - now elevated due to the exertion of swimming - under his fur. It was a comfort, and she drew strength from knowing he would keep her safe from whatever lied ahead.

At first, crossing the river seemed easy, but as they pushed forward, the journey became harder. Even though she was not the one doing the work, Isabella felt exhaustion sink into her bones. She could feel the water pushing back, fighting against their path. It was as if the river was trying to keep them on their side, prevent the crossing. The air around them was covered in a thick fog, the light bending and disappearing, even shimmering at certain angles. When Isabella passed through the first time, she did not think much of the strange phenomenon. Now, knowing what she knew, she could only assume that this strange mist was the Veil that Jacob spoke of, the thing keeping the two worlds apart.

She did not remember her trip across the river being this difficult. In fact, there was hardly any resistance at all. Now, the river sapped all the strength out of them to the point where Isabella thought that Jacob would be unable to carry on. She could feel him lagging, the currents pulling on his limbs as the water sloshed her further into the depths. His heart was racing, his pulse hammering through his skin. She wished there was something she could do to help him instead of just acting as dead weight, but all she could offer was words of support and praise, encouraging him to keep going. They were almost there. She could feel it.

When her muscles were screaming for release, her fingers blue and cramped from clinging onto Jacob's fur, and she felt as though she could hold on no longer, the tension broke. It were as if the tides had ceased, depositing the two travelers into calm, tepid water. The chill that had once sliced through her sensitive skin gave way to warmth. The water itself became clearer and less dark, the fog giving way to brighter, sunnier skies. Isabella let out a shaky breath of relief. Jacob let out a whine as well as he spotted the shore, the strip of brown beach a welcome sight.

Shaking paws clawed their way up the shore. Jacob dropped to his knees as soon as he reached hard ground, and Isabella pried her fingers from the knotted fur. It felt like her joints were snapping as she freed herself, body and supplies rolling from the wolf's back onto the gritty sand. She laid on her back, sand sticking to her damp skin, getting into every crevice, but she did not care. All she focused on was pulling breath in and out of her stinging lungs. The air tasted just as she remembered, like brine and wildflowers but without the heady perfume that permeated everything on the other side. However, there was something else there now, something reminiscent of burning wood that reminded her of the pit at the Shapeshifter camp, except this burning was far less sweet and much more acrid.

Mustering up her regaining strength, Isabella turned over to find Jacob lying in a similar position. Gone was the wolf form, replaced by the bare body of his humanoid self. His eyes were closed, but the steady rise and fall of his chest let Isabella know that the trip had not exhausted him to the point of death. Slowly, she rose to unsteady feet and headed his way. She sank to her knees by his side and stroked deft fingers through his soaked hair. The paints on his chest had smeared slightly, leaving small rivulets of colored water trickling in puddles around him. They stained her robes, though she was barely concerned. Instead, Isabella focused on getting Jacob to open those dark, gorgeous eyes.

Eventually, he came to, eyelids forcing themselves open and adjusting to the invasion of light.

"Did it work?" he asked wearily, accepting the hand that Isabella offered to pull himself up into a sitting position.

"Yes," she replied softly, eyes roving over his body for any injuries, glad when she could find none. "You were incredible."

"Hardly," Jacob refuted, though that did nothing to distract from the pleased smile that washed over his face at her praise. "How far are we from your village?"

"I am not sure," Isabella said, looking over the bank to the hills that lied beyond. "This shore, this air, it feels familiar. I assume we are close, though it will still be a ways to walk before we reach the actual village."

"What are you waiting for then?"

"For you, of course," Isabella replied, as if the answer were obvious. Did Jacob really expect for her to leave him behind? After all he had done for her? The notion was preposterous in every sense. "I have waited this long to come home. I can wait a few more minutes for you to gather strength."

Isabella rummaged through the supply bags in search of spare robes, managing to find one in Jacob's usual shade of green. Though she admired his form clothed or unclothed, it would not be proper for him to make an entrance in the nude. Especially if he was going to meet her father, which Isabella wished for very much. She wanted to show Jacob off, wanted her people to see the real hero, a god worth worshipping and sacrificing young women to. Perhaps it was a childish want, but she relied heavily on the approval of her father. It was one of the reasons she agreed to be a bride in the first place. She only hoped he would be glad to see her and accept her choices.

"I think I have rested enough," Jacob said some time later. His breathing had steadied to a familiar depth, and his eyes had regained most of their adventurous gleam.

"Are you certain?" Isabella asked. Though she was itching to get moving, she did not want Jacob to get injured due to her impatience.

"I am," he affirmed, standing in one swift movement. There, with his chest puffed out, scanning their surroundings, he looked back to normal.

"If you insist," Isabella conceded as her gaze too moved towards the grassy hills. "I do not think the village is far. We should be there with plenty of light to spare."

"By all means, lead the way."

Jacob shouldered the supplies and stepped to the side to let Isabella take the lead. She smirked, knowing that while she was the one with the mental map, Jacob probably had ulterior motives to hanging behind. Of course, he would check for threats, but then there was the added bonus of watching her posterior sway as she trekked uphill. She could feel his stare on her behind and wondered how it was he found the energy to do anything other than keep going. This was not the time to give into any carnal wants, not when there was so much uncertainty ahead.

How would her village take to seeing her after so long? Would they be pleased? Would they think her a failure? Surely, after she spoke her peace, they would be made to see her point of view. They still thought the other side of the river was a paradise, and while it was luxurious, it was not kind to humans. Isabella liked to think she was on the way to save more unassuming young girls from a terrible fate. The girls she lived with, the children in the village, they deserved to live long, prosperous lives with loving spouses. No one should be subjected to the fear and terror of the River God's palace.

There was also the presence of Jacob to sort out. Isabella had no idea how long he had to stay before his brothers called him back. If their time was limited, she was unsure if she even wanted to introduce him anymore and just spend the remaining time they had alone. If she was not going to have the luxury of seeing him or touching him or loving him for some time - or never again, perish the thought - she did not want to waste a single second. However, Jacob seemed more focused on making his way up the hills than she, his gaze focused on the path or the peaks of the terrain, checking for signs of fires from stoves or the flocking of birds.

Strangely enough, there was none of that. In fact, it was eerily quiet and still. Isabella felt a stifling silence surround her, her heartbeat the loudest sound thumping through her ears. Perhaps it was her nerves. Perhaps it was a trick of her brain. But Jacob was also looking curiously around, as if he were experiencing the same phenomenon.

"Are you sure this is the way?"

"I believed so..." Isabella trailed off, more uncertain than ever. "The village should be just around this ridge..."

As she spoke the words, they rounded a bend in the path, and there the village was...

...what was left of it, at least.

Isabella gasped and stumbled backwards into Jacob's chest, afraid of collapsing which had nothing to do with her previous exhaustion. She covered her mouth to hold back a scream, which was in vain as the strangled sound still forced its way from her swollen throat. Tears stung at her eyes as she took in the horrific sight in front of her.

Her home...her village, was in ruins.

The ground looked like it had been upturned, dark brown with thick mud and chunks of grass. Wooden structures that were once homes and barns and water wheels laid in pieces scattered across the terrain. The entire place had been leveled, razed to the foundation. Water sloshed from the ground, squeezed from the earth as she took heavy, sticky steps. The village had been drenched, saturated with water, drowned above the shore.

"What happened?"

Her voice was brittle, crumbling under the warbling in her throat. She had one terrible idea of how this happened. One terrible idea that was the only plausible explanation as to why an entire village looked as if it had suffered a flood of impossible proportions. She just was not strong enough to entertain it at the moment. She wanted any other explanation, any other freak of nature other than this particular phenomenon.

Anything to make it feel as though she were not the one responsible.

Because if her husband destroyed her childhood home in an act of vengeance, then she did not know how to live with herself.

"I-I do not know..." Jacob said, his tone heartbroken as if he were absorbing her pain as his own. "Isabella, I am so sor-"

She did not want to hear his apology, the syllables ringing through deaf ears. The words only made her stomach roll. Compiled with so many lives, so many lost...it made her sick.

Isabella hunched over and heaved up the contents of her stomach, little that there were. The hot bile on her lips seared down her throat, scorching in contrast to the intense cold wind that ripped through the open space. The wind whistled as it whipped through her hair, as if mocking her pain, cruel laughter that only drove her further into despair. The sun disappeared behind the clouds, now grey and foreboding, sealing the melancholy mood.

Without thinking, her body careened forward, as if drawn towards the darkness. Whether out of want to join them, or morbid fascination, she was unsure. All she knew was that she had to see more, had to see everything for herself.

"Isabella..." Jacob called hesitantly, hand catching lightly on her upper arm, calling her back gently. "You do not have to - "

She merely fixed him with a pathetic, yet pointed look. Yes. She did have to do this. She had to make sure, had to be certain of the extent of the damage. Had to be certain there was not anyone left behind, anyone she could save.

The ground sloshed and crunched underfoot, the sounds sharp and jarring, sending shivers down her spine. The scents she encountered, those of spoiled meats and rotting wood, kept her on the verge of illness. It only got worse as she waded further in. Broken shards of glass from windows floated in puddles spattered with red. Personal trinkets, from jewelry to skipping hoops to plates and pans lied scattered about, torn and shattered. She assumed that there were bodies to be found under the wreckage, but she had no inclination to go digging. Nothing was left untouched, not the baker's front with bricks torn off the facade nor the welder's hut, prods and irons left poking out of the wooden slats of what used to be a roof.

Like she did in the river, Isabella pushed forward. Her body fought her the entire way, begging her to go back, to save herself more pain, but she did not listen. Her toes were pinched, shoes sloshing with mud and frozen, but her feet kept moving. Jacob watched from a safe distance, unsure of what to expect - not from the village, but from Isabella. They moved up a familiar path now scattered with fallen branches and tree limbs. No dryads lived here, and perhaps that was a blessing. How they would weep to see their sisters so fallen.

Finally, she found what she had been looking for. Or, what it used to be.

Her home looked the same as the other buildings: a ruin. The once-inviting trail planted with colorful blooms had been drowned and uprooted, no flowers nor cobblestone path to mark the way. The foundation had sunk into a pit, the ground where her house once stood proudly eaten by the greedy earth. Slats from the walls laid around the sinkhole, covered in rot and growing moss. Getting closer, Isabella could make out the carvings her father had dug into the brown wood as he marked her growth from a child into a young woman.

Something shone in the dim light, drawing her attention. Kneeling down, Isabella crouched in the dirt and picked up the object in question.

Her father's Knight's Guild crest.

Grief knocked into Isabella with a blinding force. Her father always kept this pinned to his cloak; it was his most prized possession. There was only one reason it would be parted from him now, only one way he would let it off of his person. If he had no choice at all.

The tears flowed freely from her eyes, blinding her to everything else. The rest of the world faded away until there was only she and an overwhelming darkness. It clawed at her ankles, threatening to pull her under into the sea of bodies it had already claimed. She felt helpless, lost, directionless in a world where she had nothing an no one. Not even Jacob felt like a comfort compared to this. She had always thought that she would be able to fall back upon her village, that invisible support from so far away, keeping the tiniest flicker of hope alive. Now, that flame was snuffed out, and Isabella was truly alone.

"There is no home for me here," Isabella replied brokenly once her sobs had subsided, unable to process any more loss. All she felt now was rage - a blinding, terrible rage. "Take me back."

The words were so quiet, even Jacob's exceptional hearing had a hard time parsing out the words.

"What?"

"I said, take me back," Isabella demanded. She shot up from the ground and stormed to face Jacob, pushing her fists against his chest as if to bully him, a frenzy taking hold of her. "Take me back or I swear I will jump in the water and swim to the palace myself!"

She must have sounded like a wild woman, and looked like one too, but she could not bring herself to care. She did not care about Jacob's exhaustion nor the amount of energy needed to make another journey. She did not care about sounding childish or selfish. Not when her heart was torn and bleeding.

"I will take you but - " Jacob cut himself off as he snatched away her hands, holding them where she could not hurt either of them. Her words caught up to him, confusion riddling his face. "The palace?"

"Yes, the palace," Isabella confirmed, scanning the destruction and knowing exactly who was responsible. "I will have words with my husband."


	17. The Reckoning

The Reckoning

Travel back over the Veil was easier than before. Isabella supposed that it served to keep things trapped on one side, to prevent the urges of power-hungry gods from spiraling out of control. Jacob padded through the water as if it were nothing, crossing in a record time. They did not even have to stop to gather breath or strength. Isabella was not sure if she would have allowed it anyway. Her vision had tunneled in the color of crimson, only one goal in mind that could soothe the fire inside.

The path through the forest grew denser and more familiar as the river widened. She could feel the energy of the water humming deep beneath the surface, the sentient consciousness of nature mingled with her husband only pushing her to get to her destination faster. Her fingers were knotted in Jacob's fur far tighter than before, so tight that she felt her nails biting into her skin, creating crescent-shaped cuts in her palm. The sting kept her focused, serving as an outlet for her overflowing anger.

Never before had she considered herself a violent or malevolent person. Never before had she genuinely wanted to inflict damage or harm upon someone else. War was not what she had wanted; she did not go in to the Shapeshifter's den to incite conflict. Now, she rode towards her husband's home with the express purpose of raising hell.

Oh, how she longed to be there when Jacob and his brothers finally gave him a taste of the terror he had inflicted upon her. How she longed to see him feel pain and wished to be the one to inflict it. He had stolen everything from her, and she wished to repay the favor. Inviting such rage, such dark desires inside her heart scared her. But her conscious was overpowered by her need to avenge her people, her need to protect herself, and she would never be safe so long as her husband was around to terrorize her.

The forest cleared, a thin ring of trees remaining before the immaculately manicured lawns of the palace came into view. The marble fortress stood out from the treetops, gleaming in the sun. Jacob slowed his pace, coming into the edge of the clearing at a steady walk. She could feel the nerves jumping underneath his fur, his pulse racing as dark eyes scanned the area shrewdly. He did not like being so close, though neither did she.

"You do not have to do this," Jacob implored once he shifted into his human form, looking very much as though he wanted nothing more than to scoop her up, throw her on his back, and take her far away from this wretched place. "In fact, I would very much prefer if you did not."

"I need to do this," Isabella stood her ground, glaring at the marble fortress with scorn. She imagined it in pieces, and it gave her a soothing satisfaction. "When I left the first time, it was to get away, to free myself from the confusion and oppression of his presence. Now, this is different. This is personal. I need to see the look in his eye when I accuse him. I need closure."

"I know, which is why I know I cannot stop you," Jacob said resignedly, hanging his head as he pulled something out of the pockets of his robes. The whistle. "I have kept this on me, just in case the need arose to use it once more," he explained as he handed it over, placing the warm wood in her palm. "You will have one hour before my brothers storm the palace. Use this before then, I beg of you."

"Thank you," Isabella replied solemnly. Jacob did not miss how she skirted his request, his eyes reflecting hurt and longing and regret.

"I will await your call."

That was the last thing he said before turning away and running off into the forest. The trees shifted to cover his trail, shrouding his shifting form in low hanging branches and bramble. A part of her heart was weeping, reaching out for the warmth of one last embrace. The other part of her heart, the dying, stone-cold part that remained with her people in the earth on the other side of the river, gave her the courage to turn her back on comfort and do what she came to do.

Isabella was left alone at the edge of her husband's territory, though she felt no fear. If anything, she felt purpose and righteous rage.

Being back in the palace felt stifling, as if Isabella had wandered into a prison. No doubt the aurae knew she was there by now, spreading the word as fast as they could fly. Isabella dared them to try and stop her, to snuff her breath out. She would fight them, rip through them to get to her husband. She would not leave until she had spoke her peace. Or, more accurately, screamed it.

The River God could smite her, kill her if he wanted. What else did she have to live for? She had Jacob, but not even his life was guaranteed with the looming battle, and she did not think she could survive anymore loss. She would have it out with her husband, damn the consequences.

Turning down the hall, she could feel the magnitude of his power radiating from the terrace. It was like a beacon, drawing her in closer like a moth to a flame. She knew she would get burned, but did not care. Each step brought her closer to retribution. Each close gave her the chance to finally stand up for herself.

Inside the room, there was nothing except for a single figure standing on the balcony. His back was turned towards her, gaze fixed on the horizon where the river lapped peacefully in its bed. He was still as a statue, the only movement coming from the breeze that blew gently through the blue robes, which for some reason only served to fuel Isabella's fire.

"YOU!" Isabella exclaimed as she stormed into the space. Her voice echoed off the cavernous walls, filling the space with nothing but the shrill, angry pitch of her outburst.

"Isabella?"

Damn him for acting as if nothing was wrong, so calm and composed, as if he did not fear what he knew was coming for him. The drums of war had been sounded. He knew his days - his _hours_ \- were numbered. And now, to see his wife returning in such a violent fashion, he looked straight through her, as if she were an apparition. As if she weren't there at all.

"How _dare_ you!"

Isabella was now close enough to lay hands on him, so she did. She slapped him clear across the face, which would have been much more satisfying if he had flinched or moved or showed any sign of pain whatsoever. Instead, he merely blinked, eyes wide as if he could not believe what had just happened. To be completely honest, Isabella did not believe she had the courage to do that either. But when she did not receive the reaction she wanted, it only made her angry. So, she lashed out again, banging against his rock-solid chest to little avail.

"Pray tell what I am being assaulted over!" Edward demanded, avoiding her flailing hands with ease, gripping them painfully in his long-fingered clutch, crushing the bones to the point where she thought he would break them.

"How could you do that? How could you kill them?" Isabella sobbed, heartbreak mingling through her hardened stance. "There were children in the village...just children..they did nothing to offend you!"

"What are you talking about?" Edward asked, brow knit in confusion, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"You drowned them. You washed away my village..."

Her tone was so much softer now, the loud persona she had adapted, the bravado all but slipping from her shoulders, revealing the sad, tired girl she really was. She was still so young, far too young to be dealing with such horrible things. This experience had taught her that. And so, she broke down and sobbed in her husband's arms. For how long, she did not know.

"Isabella - " he started, but his voice only grated against her sensitive nerves. He had no right to be kind, no right to comfort her after ripping away everything she had once more. So she pushed him away.

"You killed them!" Isabella repeated harshly, thrusting her bound wrists up against Edward's chest hard enough for him to let go. Or perhaps it was his own distraction that led to an easy freedom. Either way, Isabella was glad for the distance. It removed her further from his infuriatingly false innocence. "Jacob took me back to the other side of the river, and when I returned, I found my home in shambles, drowned in the waters that you command!"

"And you are certain this was not what he _wanted_ you to see?" Edward snapped at the mention of Jacob's name, lip curled up in a snarl.

"Jacob may be many things, but his powers do not extend to illusions," Isabella fired back.

"I would not be so sure," Edward scoffed, his eyes flashing with something akin to pity and...jealousy? No, that could not be right. "From where I stand, you appear to be completely under that mongrel's spell."

"I know what I saw! Do not mock my pain!" she demanded, her breath ragged as she struggled to remain in control of her tumultuous emotions. "Pain that you inflict and then refuse to explain! Why will you not do me this one kindness and talk to me?"

"Now?" he bellowed, now worked up in his own right. "You want to talk now? After all the trouble you've caused, all the mess you've made running around with your silly little ideas?"

"Do not belittle me!" Isabella ordered, her face flushing even darker red as her frustration built. "I have _always_ wanted to talk! I have _begged_ you for answers, for _something_ other than overwhelming silence, but you denied me every time! What else did you expect me to do?"

"To think! For once in your measly, insignificant existence, use that tiny brain and think!" Edward snapped, pointing sharply towards her forehead. "Why would I sabotage myself? Why would I destroy the village supplying me brides? What purpose does that serve me?"

"Revenge."

"Revenge?" he repeated incredulously though anger still laced through every syllable.

"You are angry with me for running away. You wanted to spite me."

"Do not flatter yourself to think you are so important," Edward sneered down at her as if she were more a nuisance than a threat. "I have lived for hundreds of thousands of years. I have duties to the river, duties to this land. Do you honestly think I spend my days plotting petty revenge against a creature whose lifespan is over within a blink of my eye?"

"Then why send the naiad?"

"What naiad?"

"The one that tried to drown me upstream!" she explained, hands on her hips as she awaited whatever half-baked, nonsensical excuse he would use to worm his way out of this one. For once, he was not quick on the uptake, mouth floundering for a minute. He seemed genuinely perplexed, and Isabella did not know what that meant, nor what he was getting out. If he were mocking her intelligence once more, he was acting in poor form. "Do not play coy! I know they serve you. You are their master after all."

"A naiad," was what he repeated, and for the first time, there was genuine fear in his eyes. "Are you certain?"

"As certain as I saw the scales on her skin and the fangs poised to rip out my throat."

"I sent no naiad," he refuted strongly, brow wrinkled in distress. He began to pace the marble floors, fingers worrying his chin as he thought.

"Then who else?" Isabella demanded, not believing him though she had to admit that his reaction was strange. "Who else has the power to command such creatures?"

"It is not possible..." he muttered to himself, madness apparently taking over.

"Who!"

"It was not me!" Edward roared, his golden eyes flashing vibrantly, power radiating off of his body strong enough to shatter the glass vase on the dais. Isabella flinched, scattering away from the shards. A piece had flung out to slice against her cheek, and she could feel the sting of the cut and the blood dripping down her pale skin. Edward pinched the bridge of his nose, reigning back in his power.

"It was not me," he repeated much more calmly, a weariness to his voice now. "You come into my home with these accusations, but I am not the one responsible for this offense."

"Unbelievable," Isabella sighed, unsure of why she was so surprised, why her heart continued to ache each time she was rejected. She thought she would get used it, but each time he turned out to be a disappointment, she only felt shame for her own naivety.

"Isabella, I am not the one you seek but I believe I know who is."

"Oh really?" she taunted, flinging her arms up in a wild motion, throwing all caution to the wind. "And I do not suppose this true fiend has a name? Or, let me guess, a name you will not tell?"

Edward pinched his lips in a thin line.

"It is not that simple," he started, his patronizing tone returning only to make her blood boil. "There are things you do not yet understand - "

"Because you do not give me the chance!"

"Because you are not mature enough to handle the truth!" Edward shot back, crowding into her space so that she could see the amount of irritated fury that languished in those molten eyes. "You are a child! You lack patience! You lack discipline! Every time you think you know something, you fly off with your wild imagination. You do not think before you act. You believe you are impervious to the consequences of your daydreams and your half-truths that you hold with such conviction, but you have caused more trouble than you could possibly understand. If Aro knows the true extent of your meddling..."

"Aro?"

Edward did not have time to reply.

A grumbling was heard in the distance, followed by the steady beating of drums. As it grew closer, the grumbling turned to growling, preceded by the heavy thuds of dozens of footsteps...or paw steps.

Isabella swallowed thickly. Had an hour truly elapsed? She had not thought to look at the sun during their argument, but she could see now that it was much lower in the sky than when she had entered the palace in a frenzy. The whistle felt heavy in her pocket. Her brain shouted for her to use it and run, to get out of the line of fire, but her heart beat in time to the drums of war, every muscle frozen in place.

"What have you done..." Edward breathed, abject horror washing over his face as he saw his enemies fast approaching.

For a moment, Isabella felt a fleeting sense of guilt. She looked around at all the beautiful things, knowing that this place would be least idyllic in the morning. This was a place that knew no real violence, knew no battles. It seemed a shame to ruin it.

"We have to leave."

The River God was moving across the room, collecting items that seemed to have no connection whatsoever. Isabella expected robes and food supplies. Instead, her husband grabbed a pendant with a large blue stone, a few scrolls from his numerous shelves, and a few other trinkets. He disappeared into his false wardrobe only to reappear with the sword. It shone even more menacingly in the open, the hilt gleaming as if excited for the impending bloodbath rapidly approaching the palace. Isabella shivered, uncertain about what her husband was going to do now that the blade was unsheathed.

"Did you not hear me? We have to leave."

Isabella had heard him the first time, but she had no intention of leaving. Yes, the Shapeshifters would storm the palace, but they would leave her in peace. She was on their side after all.

"I am leaving nowhere with you!"

"You can and you will," he hissed, grabbing onto Isabella's wrist with a punishing strength. "It is not safe for either of us here."

"Let go of me!"

"If you would stop acting like a child and listen to me!" Edward roared, deafening silence cracking through the marble walls, resonating through Isabella's bones so that it vibrated down her spine. "You can either come with me and live, or stay here to face whatever is coming and die. The choice is yours, but know if you stay here, you will never know what truly happened to your village."

"I know exactly what happened to my village," Isabella retorted, not falling for a single word he said. "You happened."

"Come now, don't be a fool," Edward scolded, eyes focused anxiously on the horizon. "If I wanted you dead, I would have done it while you still lived with me. I would not have nursed you back to health after you broke your ankle, nor gifted you such fine things. I would have squeezed the life from your throat the moment I saw you and fed your carcass to the naiads."

It was a morbid answer, one meant to scare her into submission. And it worked, mostly.

"Why haven't you then?" she challenged, a thrill of fear and something else running down her spine as she noticed just how close she was both to the blade and her husband's reach. "I have done more than enough to get myself killed thrice over."

Edward quirked a morbid smile. "Do not tempt me."

Isabella did not know why, but something changed between them after that. She allowed him to take her by the wrist and whisk her out of the room and down the familiar halls of the palace. She did not know if this was the right decision or if she were making another monumental mistake, but she had nothing to lose, and the situation surrounding her continued to make less and less sense. If Edward was finally going to be open and offer her answers to things that not even Jacob understood, then she needed to take them.

Still, her gaze remained fixed on the sword, watching it carefully as he husband changed hands and shifted the hilt in his grip. Being so close to a weapon of mass destruction made Isabella's hairs stand on end. She could not help but imagine why he was taking it. Of course, there was the aspect of self defense, but one sword would not be enough to stave off dozens of angry, war-hungry Shapeshifters. Perhaps the goal was to take down as many as he could before the end found him. The thought made Isabella's stomach roll, the image of the bloodied bodies of her newfound allies scattered amongst the white marble halls too much to bear.

"The treaty shall enforce the borders for a bit longer, but I can feel the magic giving way. We're running out of time," Edward said in a hurry, checking each turn to make sure that there was no one waiting on the side. "There is servant's pass through this hall," he instructed, pushing through gales of wind that blustered past - terrified aurae trying to find a safe space to hide. "If we can just make it through this corridor then - "

The River God never finished his thought. For at that moment, the ground shook, a wave of energy knocking them both to the ground.

"What was that?" Isabella asked in a small voice, the fear in Edward's eyes reflecting what she feared was the truth.

The treaty had failed. The Shapeshifters were coming.

In the distraction and panic of the barriers breaking, Edward had relaxed his grip on the blade so that his fingers held it loosely between his fingers. Isabella saw her opportunity and seized it. Reaching out with her free hand, she clutched the sword around the hilt and stole it from her husband. It was heavier than it looked, and vibrated subtly with a power that lurked just beneath the metal. Whatever it was, it was not meant for mortal hands, that much was clear.

"What are you doing?" Edward asked as he whirled on her, confusion etched through every line on his face.

"I am sorry," Isabella apologized to her stricken husband, tears in her eyes though she did not know why. "I cannot let you harm anyone else!"

"ISABELLA!"

His voice reverberated off the walls and down the halls she sprinted through. Desperation and anger mingled with encroaching fear in his tone made her regret her decision almost immediately. For all he had done to her, all he had done to so many others just like her, all she had wanted to have done to him upon entering earlier that day, she could not bring herself to stop the sorrow she felt. She had left him alone in a dark corridor to face the enemy unarmed; even from a distance she swore she could hear the snaps of jowls and grate of claws. What a tragic, terrible ending.

Eventually, Isabella's feet reached a room she had never been in before. It was a wide, open space with multiple instruments for stargazing and an oculus in the center of the ceiling. Normally, it would let in the sunlight, but now it only brought in dim light from the clouds overhead. It seemed as though the weather had changed to match the mood, dark and cold, the breeze settling a chill into her bones. Her footsteps clacked along the marble floors, which were inlaid with other stones to create a replica of the zodiac in shades of gold and indigo. It was gorgeous detailing, though Isabella was not concerned with that admiring the craftsmanship.

No, she was far more concerned with the fact that she was not alone.

"Emily," Isabella gasped, shocked to see the timid woman dressed in a similar fashion to the Shapeshifters, her war paint proudly displayed on her exposed chest. That was not the shocking part though. The shocking part was that Sam would allow his weakest link anywhere near a battleground. "What are you doing here? It isn't safe..."

"Jacob told us that you had come to parlay with the River God. He was under the impression that you would be returning. How surprising it is to find you here now. We assumed the worst."

Her words came off cold and calculating, sending a sense of dread down Isabella's spine. What did Emily think? That she had turned against them? That she had sided with her husband?

"That is true, I came to talk. We had words and now I would like very much to leave, with you if possible."

"I am afraid I cannot allow that."

The words stunned Isabella, rejection stinging through her veins.

"Why not?"

"Give me the sword Isabella," she commanded instead, her voice filled with an authority Isabella was not used to hearing from such sweet lips.

Until Emily had drawn attention to it, Isabella had forgotten she was holding it, the weight of the blade making her entire arm go numb. Despite the discomfort, she felt no want to let it go.

"Why?" Isabella asked, unsure as to why she was hesitating. This was Emily. She could trust Emily. But standing in battle regalia, dark eyes fixated on Isabella as if she were prey, made all the more uncertain.

"I will not ask again."

"Emily...why are you acting like this?" Isabella asked, confused and hurt by the harsh behavior. "I thought we were friends."

"As did I," Emily agreed, something hard to the edge of her voice that was difficult to place. "But I see your allegiance lies elsewhere."

"It is as you said: I came to parlay with my husband - _our husband_ \- and nothing more," Isabella explained, carefully moving around Emily as not to startle her or invoke an action. "He says there are things I do not understand, and I am inclined to start believing him. Perhaps this has all been an unfortunate misunderstanding. Perhaps there is a way where I can explain this and make this right, prevent war and anyone from dying."

"Misunderstanding or not, it is too late for words," Emily negated, eyes honing in on the sword. "So long as that blade exists, there shall be war. And you have picked the losing side."

"Emily..." Isabella trailed off, realizing now she was getting nowhere and that a fight was inevitable. "Emily please...we do not have to do this."

"Yes, we do."

Isabella barely had time to brace herself for the impact.

The only thing she could think was that she had vastly underestimated Emily's ability.

The woman rammed into Isabella's side with all the force of an ox, muscles just as strong as any Shapeshifter knocking Isabella to the ground with ease, sword falling from her hand and skittering across the floor. It felt as though Isabella were shattering, a million times worse than the pain she felt when she broke her ankle. This was an all-encompassing, radiating pain that made it feel as though all her bones had just been ground to dust.

"I had such high hopes for you Isabella," Emily huffed as she pressed a knee into her side, drawing all the air from Isabella's lungs in one jarring move. It felt as though someone had deflated her, eyes burning with tears as air was suddenly impossible to come by. Isabella crumpled to the ground, feeling as she did when the aurae tried to choke her. Her arms came to instinctively wrap around her midsection in a desperate bid to ward off another attack. "What a shame things had to end this way."

"Emily...please..." Isabella pleaded for her life, scrambling away from the warrior woman to no avail.

Emily kicked her once more, this time the sound of bone snapping following the attack. Pain flared like a thousand bee stings in Isabella's side. She cried out as she rolled onto her back, unable to bite down her tongue any longer. She wanted to be strong, but she couldn't. She was just so weak in comparison to immortals.

"I do not understand what it was Jacob saw in you," Emily sighed as she leaned down and wrapped one hand around Isabella's throat. Her fingers dug into the sensitive skin, and the already scarce air that Isabella managed to pull in disappeared completely. "And to think I wasted my time teaching you, taking you under my wing. For what?"

"E - mi - ly..." Isabella managed to squeeze out, hands grasping desperately at Emily's in a bid to pry them from her throat. It only made the other woman hold on tighter, press down harder against Isabella's wind pipe.

Isabella was getting nowhere. Every second she struggled was in vain. She could not overpower Emily, did not possess the strength to free herself. She was going to die after all, and she was so, so afraid. Unable to accept that, shaking eyes scanned her surroundings. Emily had pushed her all the way over to where the instruments were, knocking telescopes and charts over so that they crashed to the ground. And underneath the leg of one of the bigger machines was the sword. It glinted dully, blending in seamlessly with its surroundings. Emily had yet to notice it, her focus rapt on watching the life drain from Isabella's eyes.

It was so close, just out of reach. If she could only stretch far enough...

"You are pathetic...a traitor. He is better off without you. This side of the river is better off without you."

Isabella did not think. She wrapped shaking fingers around the golden hilt, mustered all the strength she had left, and thrust upward.

The first thing she felt was relief.

Hands loosened their grip around her neck, then disappeared entirely. Isabella let out a strangled sound as air forcefully flooded back into her lungs, the burn and stretch of sweet breath working its way through her system.

The second thing she felt was warmth.

It blossomed from all over, spreading across her chest and abdomen. At first, she thought it was her blood recirculating through deprived areas, returning sensational to where it had been lost. But blood was not supposed to feel sticky and damp when inside her body.

Her vision was spotting, but as she looked up, there was no mistaking the source of the warmth.

The sword had found purchase in Emily's chest right where her heart resided. Isabella could hear the erratic beats slowing at a rapid pace, her fingers still wrapped around the hilt that was pressed flush against Emily's torn ribcage. The woman herself was gaping, her mouth fixed in a soundless 'oh' as she realized what had happened. The horror and anguish that filled those dark eyes struck Isabella's soul, making her eyes flood with tears.

Horrified at her actions, Isabella pulled back, dislodging the sword from Emily's chest and scampering away. Emily pitched forward, grunting as she clawed at her chest, looking confused as her hands came away covered in bright red. It dripped from the hilt of the blade, steadily streaming into puddles that stood in stark contrast to the pristinely white marble. She stared at Isabella, betrayal written across every line of her face, before crumpling to the ground in a heap.

"No..." Isabella muttered deftly, unable to accept what had just happened, what she had just done. "No...Emily...no..."

She hadn't meant to...she didn't mean to...

Isabella stumbled back over to Emily's body, pulling it into her lap, not caring that she sat in blood that stained through her robes in the pattern of some macabre artwork. The woman was not breathing, eyes glazed over holding none of their usual serenity. Isabella fumbled for her wrist, looking for a pulse under the slick of crimson. She found none.

All she held was a cooling, lifeless corpse of a woman she once called friend.

"No, no, no!"

Isabella cried, beating against Emily's chest as she tried in vain to bring life back to where there was none. Emily was dead. Emily was gone and it was her fault. Which meant that Sam was gone. Which meant...she did not even know what that meant, her mind not able to fathom what was going to happen next.

But her husband knew, and when she looked up at him through bleary, guilty eyes, she saw the horror and fear they held. She had no idea how Edward had found her, but she felt a strange sense of relief that he had survived. At least she would not be responsible for three deaths. He looked worse for wear: his hair stuck in all directions, robes torn to shreds, thin rivulets of ichor dripping from the claw marks on his chest and limbs. Isabella supposed she looked no better.

The ground rumbled once more, a sound like thunder rolling through the space. It shook the walls, causing the marble to crack and tremble. Dust and rock fell from the walls, trinkets toppling over and sliding across the floor as the foundation shifted. On top of that, the heartbroken howls of dozens of Shapehshifters filled the air, a macabre soundtrack to the sudden destruction.

"We have to go," Edward implored, finding it easy to get Isabella to comply when she was dazed and confused. "Get up."

Isabella stumbled to her feet, deftly obeying her husband. There was no resistance this time, only regret for leaving Emily's body behind.

The forest revolted. On the horizon she could see the line of trees sway like angry dancers in the growing wind. This was not the wind of aurae, but something else. Storm clouds grew over the river, coming in at a rapid pace that swallowed the sun, casting the shore in a premature night. The ground crumbled at her feet, the stone splintering and falling to pieces.

"Move!" Edward shouted, grabbing the sword with one hand and her wrist in another before taking off running.

Nature tore into the palace, busting through pillars and breaking through the floors, planting in new roots as they threatened to strangle anything in their path. Trees erupted from the ground, trunks pushing through the starry murals on the floor. The oculus caved in on itself, unable to maintain proper support as the ceiling all but collapsed, destroying countless of the River God's prized objects. Sculptures and busts fell. Priceless artifacts were shattered and crushed to bits. Chandeliers snapped from their hanging places while the stairs all but dissolved into rubble.

Isabella watched as every step behind her turned into chaos.

The wind whipping past her ears all but screamed, trying to hold things together to no success. The forest was unstoppable, devouring and demolishing everything in its path. By some miracle, they made it out of the palace with minimal damage. The forest continued to eat the palace until there was nothing left, thick vines winding around the pillars of the open-aired antechamber, crushing the fountain she nearly fell in on the first day while it collapsed the domed ceiling, powder white dust descending upon them as they headed towards the shore.

Isabella had no idea where they were going. The River God was without a home, without a domain. The air was restless, storm clouds gathered overhead while the river itself roiled in its bed. Waves surged and swelled, the tides rougher than any Isabella had seen before this side of the river. The grass along the banks took it upon itself to snatch at the hems of their robes as they ran, tearing into the fine fabrics until there was none beneath their ankles. Still, her husband kept a firm grip on her wrist, dragging her dazed form along like some wayward pet. His arm that held the sword was extended towards the river as they approached, using a great deal of effort to keep it aloft by the way he was trembling.

Fleetingly, she wondered if the Shapeshifters were still here. If they were still alive or if they had been caught up in the carnage of the forest. Her mind fluttered to Jacob, to the death of the Alpha and what this meant for his future. What it meant for both of their futures. What she had done...he would never be able to look her in the eye ever again.

Edward's grip on her wrist brought her back to the present. Turning towards the river, she saw a small boat similar to the one she arrived on rocking against the shore. Edward was headed towards it, but Isabella felt apprehensive. How was that going to save them when the waves were gaining height and force by the second? Still, he jumped in, pulling her in with him before pushing them out into the water.

The mist sprayed her face, making her even colder than before. Edward was still trembling, and Isabella realized that he was exerting all his power on not only summoning this boat, but keeping the river at bay. Something was working against him, draining him as he tried to steer them to safety. Waves crashed against the hull, tipping their boat from side to side, dangerously close to capsizing.

"We should turn back!" Isabella shouted. They were no safer in the river than they were on land. The water had gone black and foreboding. Isabella had long since stopped believing of monsters in the depths, but now those fears were redeveloping.

"No! We have to - "

Edward never got the chance to finish.

A giant swell rose above, and with a single crash, swallowed their boat whole.


	18. The Reunion

A/N: What a cliffhanger! I'll be explaining things over the next few chapters, so don't worry if things don't make sense at the moment.

I just wanted to take a second to share some good news to those who may not have seen. My story for the Age of Edward 2017 Contest, **Champion** , won a judge's pick! I've never entered a contest before, so I'm really proud of how things turned out. If you haven't already, go and read all of the awesome entries. Everyone did such a good job! Also, please don't forget to vote on the new story poll on my profile page! XOXOX!

* * *

The Reunion

Isabella woke with a start, confused as to how she wound up in a downy bed instead of at the bottom of the river.

Someone had changed her out of her old robes and into new ones - light blue in the same shade the River God wore - but she could feel the dirt and sweat still sticking to her skin, evidence of the night before. She was sure that there was even still blood speckled across her skin, and she curled back into the sheets. Isabella was so exhausted, like all of the energy had been leeched from her bones. She had no idea how long she had been sleeping.

Everything was so confusing. The last thing she remembered were her husband's terrified golden eyes widening as a giant swell swallowed their boat and sent them tumbling into the rough, stormy waters of the river. She had thought in that moment, that it was her time, that this land had finally come to claim her life. She had made peace with that, thinking it was what she owed. She did not expect to survive, yet there she was.

A great sense of shame and desperation came over Isabella. She did not deserve to be alive, to be breathing, to be lying on a bed of soft silks enjoying the warmth of another day when she was the reason so many lives had been lost. The River God should have left her to die in the palace. He should have left her to grow roots from her lungs and have vines crawl into her heart and squeeze the life out of her as she had snuffed the light out of Emily. He should have let her drown when the boat capsized. He should have left her body sinking into the depths of the river, left her carcass for the naiads to feed upon, just as he threatened.

Once again, she was presented with the weight of her youth. How young she was to carry this kind of burden. How young she was to have been sent across the river, to be sent to such an inhospitable place. Oh, how this place had changed her, how it had warped her sense of reality, her sense of right and wrong. Wrong to kill another, yet it was to save her own life. Wrong to love another outside the bond of marriage, yet her husband was a monster. Or, at least she thought he was a monster, but he came back for her. He saved her, time and time again. Why would he do that? What motives did he have to save someone that he could do nothing but hate, someone who despised him in return?

While a small part of her was smugly satisfied at this turn of events, the majority of her conscience was heavy with grief. Isabella supposed she deserved the River God's hate. She had mistakenly sent him into war, and now he had no home.

Though...where did that leave her exactly?

Rising from the bed, Isabella took a more critical look around the cavernous room. If she had not known better, she would have guessed this to be the River God's palace. The ceilings were high and domed, pillars standing around the perimeter of the open-aired, circular space. She could hear waves lapping gently against the shore, birds singing as they flew by. The breeze was cool, filtering through the gauzy curtains along with soft sunlight. The only thing that differed was the material of the stone. Instead of cold, pristine white marble, the room - from the pillars to the ceiling to the floor - was constructed out of a beige, golden color material reminiscent of sand. Getting out of bed, Isabella placed her feet on the ground to find that the material was still firm, but had a rougher texture to it. A closer look revealed that small fragments of shells and glitter glass and precious stones were sparkling inside the odd mixture.

Isabella wandered to the balcony. The first thing she saw upon looking out was water. Lots and lots of water as far as the eye could see. There was no other land in sight, and that sent a thrill down her spine. The second thing she noticed was that she was very far up. This palace spired from the ocean itself, rising from the waves to settle far above the rise and fall of the tide. Only a small strip of beach was visible, lined with large rocks which the waves broke over in constant time. One thing that differed was that this water smelled of salt and brine, reminding Isabella of her outing with Jacob.

 _The ocean_ , her mind supplied, and another shiver ran down her spine.

She remembered Jacob telling her that the ocean was infinitely more ancient and powerful than the river. Being so close, she could feel that power now. It radiated from the walls, the floors, through the air. Not malevolent, but a constant, present force. While the River God's palace always felt sterile and cold, this palace felt warm and inviting. It certainly felt older than the River God's palace as well. Isabella did not know how she knew, but it was a sensation deep within her that there was more history to this place than met the eye.

One thing remained constant, however: she was alone.

Though Isabella did not like the idea of running to her husband, she needed to find him. She did not know if he made it out the storm, though she suspected that if she could survive, then a god surely could. Still, this palace was huge if her room was anything to go off of. The view from the balcony showed the expanse of the palace; it went on for as far as she could bend her body without falling over the rail. It would take hours to search its entirety. If Isabella got lucky, perhaps there would be aurae that could guide her in the right direction, or better yet, a living person that could explain exactly what was going on.

The door to her room was heavy but pushed open with ease, revealing a long hallway with arched ceilings embedded with precious stones and gems. The colorful materials depicted murals of aquatic scenes, from crashing swells to grotesque, fantastical creatures that Isabella's father used to read from story books. Isabella was captivated by the pictures, using them as her guide as she watched a story about a powerful fisherman with a three-pronged trident who conquered the darkest abyss of the untamable ocean unfold.

Eventually the story ended and the hall deposited her into a large, circular space. It was reminiscent of an amphitheater and she had come in at the top. Stairs descended before her down into a deep pit. There was no ceiling, only the bright blue sky above. Water roared in her ears, streams rushing though the space, cutting in ravines parallel to the stairs, emptying into the bottom of the pit where a ring of water flowed around a platform only to lead out into the distance where the rest of the ocean laid. From that platform rose a large, ornate throne sculpted out of sandstone and embedded with precious gems and gold. A blue-robed man with a large frame, dark hair, and golden eyes sat on that throne, the same three-pronged golden trident from the murals engraved with various designs and swirling symbols clutched in his right hand. A beautiful blonde woman stood by his side in robes of the palest blue, turquoise and golden jewels wrapped around her wrists and throat, a golden net holding her curls in place. Though she was beautiful, her golden eyes shone with a terrifying intensity, her fists closed tightly as she looked upon the River God pacing the bottom of the stage like some caged animal

Walking a few steps further down, though still out of sight, Isabella could pick up on the conversation, coming in mid-way through a tense encounter.

"I do not know what compelled you to seek shelter here, but you should know you are not welcome," the blonde woman hissed, the venom in her voice unmistakable even from a distance.

Edward merely curled his lip into a snarl. "Where else would I have gone?"

"It is not our problem where you go, so long as it is far from here. Or have you forgotten the terms of your banishment?"

"Peace, sister," the dark haired man said, silencing the blonde though she did not look happy about it. "Father would not want us to quarrel. This is our brother after all."

 _Brother?_

During all her time on this side of the river, Isabella had not been made aware that the River God had any family. He never spoke of siblings, nor a father, though he never told her much of anything at all. Judging from what she had witnessed, Isabella assumed that his relationship with his family was not the best. The blonde woman seemed less than pleased to have Edward back, and was even campaigning to kick him out. Whatever Edward had done to upset her, or them both, must have been grave indeed.

"Yes, well Father is not exactly here, now is he Emmett? No thanks to our _brother,_ " the blonde woman challenged, though she wore a simpering smile for the sake of peace. "Besides, he has always brought nothing but trouble. I cannot speak for you, but I would rather keep Aro _out_ of our affairs."

The dark haired man, Emmett, shook his head slowly and pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly torn. He seemed to be a man who despised conflict, looking troubled as he was forced to confront this delicate issue.

"I feel for your predicament, Edward, I do, but though I am loathe to admit it, Rose makes a fair point. You have brought an outsider, a human no less, into our most sacred space. How can we be guaranteed that chaos and destruction will not find us here?"

"A human which has been nosing around our conversation for the past few minutes," Rose jumped in, and Isabella realized that she had been spied. Golden eyes fixed her with the most fearsome of stares so that she had no other choice but to make herself known.

Slowly, Isabella descended the stairs until she stood upon the platform. She felt so small standing below the throne, her insignificance as a mortal put on display as two sets of scrutinizing eyes bored into her from high above. Edward was staring at her too, though his was more a mix of exasperation and annoyance, as if he did not want her there, though it was too late to change that. So, instead, he took in a deep breath and stepped forward to guide her.

"Isabella, these are my siblings. My brother Emmett, the God of Aquatic Life and Ocean Beasts and my sister Rosalie, the Goddess of Shifting Tides and Currents," he introduced them formally, both straightening at the sound of their full titles. "Emmett, Rose, may I introduce my wife, Isabella."

"The next in a long line of many, I presume," Rose commented offhandedly.

Though Isabella was taken aback, she ignored the slight. Edward did not seem pleased with his sister's comment either, but yet he did nothing. Isabella knew it would not do to aggravate more gods than she already had, especially not ones housing her. Besides, Rose did not seem like the kind of immortal to cross lightly. Isabella feared that if she spoke up, she would end up a pile of cinders and ash within a blink of those perfect, golden eyes. Instead, Isabella dropped into a curtsey, as was appropriate for such a meeting.

"You have a lovely palace. Thank you for allowing us asylum."

"We have allowed nothing, mortal," Rose snapped, her pink cheeks flushing deeply in anger.

"Rose, that is enough," Emmett cut her off, tired of her pessimism. He appeared far more easy going than his sister, a warm smile working over his handsome features as he smiled down upon his guests. "Thank you, Isabella, though I cannot claim ownership of this palace. It belongs to our Father, the Ocean God."

"And where is he?"

Edward flinched and so did Emmett, though his reaction was much more subdued as he replied, "Indisposed I am afraid, as he has been for the past few millennia."

Isabella looked briefly towards her husband for some sort of further explanation, but found that Edward was looking pointedly away from her, his focus instead fixed on his brother.

"To answer your question from before, my burdens have always been mine to bear, and I will continue to bear them," Edward replied solemnly, looking his brother straight in the eye as if willing Emmett to believe him. "Aro, though he has his vices with me, loved our father dearly. He knew how much it meant that this remain a peaceful domain. He would not dare to break a treaty as ancient as the one established here."

"I pray you are right, brother," Emmett mused, pulling at his chin thoughtfully. "Though, you know I cannot allow you to seek asylum here forever. There are rules."

"I am aware," Edward said, as if he had already given this particular thought. "The journey here was draining, and the river has yet to settle. I only ask for enough time to gather my strength and plan my next steps. Isabella is my complete responsibility, I acknowledge that. Whatever trouble this causes you, I will deal with myself."

Though Isabella had not noticed it before, caught up in the grandeur and spectacle of her new surroundings, she saw that her husband was still worse for wear. His robes were not as neatly pressed as they usually were, his hair out of place, and dark circles rimming his eyes. His skin was exceptionally pale, fine tremors running through his hands which he purposely kept clasped behind his back to prevent any unwanted attention, yet she still noticed when he went to gesture when he spoke. Also, the claw wounds on his upper arms and chest, though bound, were not healing quickly; golden streaks of ichor soaked through the white gauze. However much time he was asking for was longer than a few days. While the poor recovery thus far could be most likely blamed on an over-expenditure of energy, even with godly healing, Isabella suspected a full recovery would take a couple of weeks at the very least. Emmett must have known this as well, because his brow furrowed pensively, assessing his brother both with a critical and concerned eye.

"Very well," Emmett finally rumbled, nodding his head along with his decision, sealing it. "I accept your conditions."

"That is it?" Rose challenged, her voice raising in pitch. "You are going to let them stay so simply? After all he has brought upon us?"

"We have not seen our brother in nearly three thousand years Rose," Emmett reminded her curtly. "I would think you would be a little more grateful for this reunion, or at least taken the time to let the past lie."

"But - "

"Us together is what Father would have wanted. I will discuss this no further," Emmett dismissed, much to the displeasure of Rose.

The pair had such a strange dynamic. Isabella wondered why Rosalie did whatever Emmett wanted, why she did not exert any of her own autonomy. Not that she wanted Rose to use her godly power to kick she and Edward out of the Ocean God's palace - or worse, blast them both into dust. No, Isabella quite liked being welcomed and treated kindly.

"I shall arrange for a banquet to be held to celebrate the arrival of our guests," Emmett declared, looking excited at the prospects of a party. Edward, in contrast, was staving off a scowl of intense displeasure, his face expressing something in between irritation and exasperation which was not much better.

"We are honored, brother," Edward replied perfunctorily, giving a short but respectful bow.

It seemed that this was a cue for dismissal, as Emmett sat back in the throne, his attention now elsewhere as Edward turned on his heel and exited the amphitheater through a small archway near the back of the stage. Isabella followed closely behind, not wanting to linger where Rose could pick her off easily. They both crossed the small bridge over the artificial ravine into another arched, muralled hall.

Edward seemed to be in a mood, anger rolling off his skin like a heatwave. Isabella was hesitant to get too close, but she also did not want to let her husband out of sight. Firstly because he was the only person she knew in this place, and second because she had no idea the way back to her room and did not fully trust anyone there to guide her.

They kept walking until they reached an open sitting room, tables and low cushions set up for lounging and entertaining. Of course, they were all empty. The sheer number of them and the size of the space led Isabella to believe that the set up was once used to entertain large parties, ones the size of her entire village. It was sad to see such a room go to waste, and also made her wonder why such an inviting home was so empty. It felt like she was walking through a mausoleum, and Isabella could see by the look on Edward's face that he felt the same.

"I did not know you had a family," Isabella started cautiously, hoping that it would prompt him to explain what the hell was going on.

"You were there Isabella. I hardly have a _family_ ," Edward replied bitterly. Anger still festered under the surface, but it was a good sign that he was controlling it while conversing with her instead of just lashing out.

"You never spoke of them, not once."

"You never spoke of yours either," Edward countered snappishly. It was a low blow, one that made her cringe with fresh grief, but Isabella was used to conversing with her husband now. She knew what he was like, the patterns he fell into, and this particular pattern was one of deflection.

"Please, can we not..." she sighed, hating how tired she sounded.

"Not what?" Edward asked for clarification, though she knew that he knew to what she was referring.

"Do this again."

"This?"

"This," Isabella repeated, as if spelling things out for a child as she gestured between the two of them. "This cycle where I ask you questions and you do not give me answers. I thought we both would have learned our lesson from what happened at the river."

"You have asked me no questions, only statements."

And while he was being indignant and purposely difficult, he made a good point. The direct route had failed her before, so Isabella had been trying to get him to talk on his own by nudging him in the right direction. Perhaps what she really needed to do was try a different strategy altogether.

Isabella swallowed her pride and fear and said, "I am sorry for ruining your home."

Edward arched an eyebrow, not expecting to hear an apology. It seemed to befuddle him, ruining his standoffish stance.

"It was not your fault," he replied, staring out into the distance.

Isabella was not sure if she could really believe that, not yet at least, but at least she could breathe a little easier knowing that he did not hold her responsible. It made her feel a little more secure in her safety, that not every god wanted her dead.

He seemed to have lowered his guard, his demeanor softening as he slumped against the nearest pillar. Isabella took this as her chance to keep pressing.

"Who is Aro?"

Edward's eyes fluttered closed, as if trying to block out that particular name. He looked so troubled, lines creasing in his forehead as troublesome memories brought themselves to the surface. Maybe Isabella was better off not knowing, but it was too late to go back now.

"There are creatures far older than gods, and far more powerful as well. We call them primoridials. Aro is one of these," Edward explained, his voice heavy and tired. "He is the embodiment of enlightenment and knowledge. He gifted mankind many of its inventions and governs this land with his brothers Marcus and Caius."

"Why have I never heard of them?"

"They are reclusive in nature and have not concerned themselves with the lives of mortals in a very long time," Edward said, looking at her with pity mixed with something indiscernible. "Although, you, it seems, have had the misfortune of catching their attention."

"It seems you have as well," Isabella replied, remembering what was said during the meeting. "Your sister spoke of banishment, a rather extreme punishment."

Edward said nothing, merely pursing his lips into a thin white line, so Isabella changed her approach.

"Your enemies seem more abundant by the day, what with the Shapeshifters and now this Aro - "

"The Shapeshifters are not my enemies, Isabella. They are my jailers," Edward sighed, his eyes carrying the weight of all his years. "Aro had the forest create them to hold me within the confines of my palace."

Isabella was stunned. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. If what her husband said was true...then that changed everything. Everything she thought she knew about the Shapeshifters was false, further screwing with her head. Isabella had no idea what to believe, what was the truth. She had two conflicting stories from two different sides, both skewed by ancient conflict. However, there was something in Edward's gaze that compelled Isabella to believe him. No truly free man would look so tormented.

All this time Isabella was right: the palace was a prison. A beautiful prison. But it was not hers, it was his.

"What ever could you have done to garner such hatred?"

Edward only sniffed, a dark half-smile crawling up his lips only to disappear with a shake of his head.

"Unimportant," he dismissed, and for the first time, Isabella was content with letting that one go. She was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth now that her husband was finally willing to tell her something. "What is important is what comes next."

"What comes next?"

"All godly power has a balance, a precarious one so easily tipped. When you killed Emily, and therefore the alpha, the balance shifted towards the river. That was why the tides were so unsteady, why I could barely keep control. The Shapeshifters were never supposed to know about the sword, so when its existence was revealed and then used to slay their kind, the forest felt betrayed and lashed out in turn. It destroyed the palace in the hopes of killing either you or I to restore that balance."

So many questions whirled around Isabella's head. Why were the Shapeshifters never supposed to know? What was the sword's purpose if not to incite war? But most important was the one question she actually managed to verbalize.

"Me? But I am not even immortal. I have no domain, no power. I am not important at all."

"No, but the forest knows you are tied to me, and thus the river. Because of what you did, Aro and the forest are now at odds. The balance of power has been upset, and if there is one thing Aro does not like, it is being challenged," Edward said darkly. She had never seen him so shaken as she had speaking of this Aro, which did nothing to assuage her own building wariness. For if a creature was dangerous enough to inspire fear in a god, there was no telling the terror that awaited her, a mere mortal. "When you first warned the Shapeshifters about the sword, Aro sent the naiad to drown you as a warning. I believe he thought you would be easily deterred, but when you did not comply, he destroyed your village in the hopes to subdue you permanently."

"But the river, the naiads - those are your domain," Isabella argued, unsure as to how Edward would not sense a disturbance in his own territory.

"Domain means little to primordials. They take whatever they please, bend whatever laws they desire to fulfill their own means. Even if I knew what Aro was doing, I would have little means to stop him," Edward replied, something dire lacing his tone.

"Why does Aro hold so many stakes in this sword?" Isabella asked, none of this making sense. "He has gone to extreme lengths to ensure its secrecy. Why?"

Edward shook his head, as if uncertain as to how to answer that question. So, in true fashion, he did not.

"The more important thing to worry about is your safety. You are in a very difficult position Isabella, a very dangerous one. You have incurred the ire of a primordial. Aro will be back to finish this, and we will both need to be prepared when he does."

"Why are you helping me?" Isabella asked, feeling overwhelmed but very much confused at her husband's newfound concern. Not that he voiced that he was worried, but his pensive stares and worried brow spoke more volumes than any words ever could. "If I am interpreting your words correctly, you are now free from Aro's bonds. The Shapeshifters no longer cage you in the palace."

"If only things were that simple," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Then explain it to me," Isabella implored softly, trying to reach whatever part of him was still holding back. He seemed so tortured, and while she held little to no sympathy for him, it was still uncomfortable to watch.

"I realize now my first mistake was keeping you in the dark, but you have to be patient with me. I do not trust easily, and I have already divulged more than I feel comfortable with," he said, taking a few steps forward so that they were closer. "Just believe that your survival is important to me. More than you know."

For a moment, Isabella did not know what was going to happen. He was so close, much closer than he had had dared to get during their last few weeks together. It reminded her of something she had noticed before, but had not had the mind to bring up.

"Back in your palace, when you took me by the wrist, you were not hurt like before."

She referred to her first flight from his palace, when he tried to grab her and was sent spiraling across the grass. It was such a violent, immediate reaction that she would never forget. Surely it was a feeling he would never forget as well, yet his brow furrowed in confusion, as if he had not realized the change.

"When you struck me, you initiated the touch. I was allowed to respond - "

"No, I mean when you came back for me during the escape. When you led me out of the wreckage."

"Then I must have redeemed myself, at least to some extent..."

As if to test this theory, Edward placed a tentative hand on shoulder. The barest brush of a touch and then he was snatching his hand away as if her skin burned. Then, he turned his back to her and stormed out of the room, leaving Isabella alone once more.


	19. The World's Edge

A/N: Hello loves! To the guest who says that so many things are left unexplained: yes, there is quite a bit left hanging, but that is on purpose as this story is still in progress. Stuff brought up ten chapters ago may not be important until ten chapters from now. It'll all be connected and squared away by the end, I promise. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! XOXOX

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The World's Edge

The next day brought more sunshine and more loneliness.

No one came to wake Isabella or ready her robes as they did in the River God's palace. Isabella had half expected to awake to a staff of aurae bustling about the room, but there was no one except for herself. While it was nice to be independent as she had gotten used to being while living with the Shapeshifters, it was also quite jarring to have a cavernous, empty room all to herself. For a moment, she found herself missing Plia, but dismissed the notion as weakness. Plia was made of wind. She had no heart, and so it was easy for the aura to betray her when the time came. Plia was never Isabella's friend, and while that still stung to accept, it was something that got easier the more she reminded herself of it.

Isabella dressed herself, finding crisp blue robes in the wardrobe across from the bed. While blue was a color she preferred not to wear, it was not as though she had much of a choice. Everything in this domain was blue save for the robes she brought with her, but those were soiled with blood would be better suited as kindling for the evening fire.

She laced up a pair of soft leather sandals and studied her reflection in the mirror. Every time Isabella looked at herself, she was surprised by what she had been such a long time since the last time she had last familiarized herself with her reflection. Her time with the Shapeshifters had done wonders for her frame, muscles sticking out in places there had previously been none - especially in her arms. Her hair had gotten long, falling at her waist in natural curls. Her skin was nearly brown, no longer even being able to be called tan. The light blue of the robes further accentuated the change, the golden details of her jewelry glowing against her throat and wrist. There was no remnant of the pale, skinny girl that sauntered through the woods to her husband's palace. That girl was dead, and this woman remained.

Unsure if she would be fed breakfast, or if she could even maneuver her way to the dining hall, she plucked a few fruits from the trees outside her window. Vines and shrubs of all kinds were potted along the terraces of the palace, some producing flowers, some simply for greenery, and others growing fruits of all shapes and sizes. These ones were orange with a rosy pink core, their juices sweet but with a sharp tang. It was not exactly a satisfying meal, but would suffice.

Wandering along the halls, exploring her new home was all she could think to do to occupy her time. It was a monstrous task given the size of the palace, but she had already discovered twice that, if you wander far enough down any hall, they all led to the center throne room. At least that gave her a focal point should she ever get lost, and thankfully no one had been inside both times she had stumbled across it. Not that she did not appreciate all her hosts had done in making her comfortable, but Rose scared her senseless, and based off of her explosive discourse the previous night, there was no telling what that goddess would do if Isabella found herself alone with her.

It was down the fourth hall that afternoon that Isabella found a space that differed from all the others.

While every other room was concealed by the same archways and single doors, this one was different. The double doors reached all the way to the ceiling, their panels engraved in a golden language Isabella could not speak. The path leading to the door was different as well, widening to accommodate such large doors. The walls felt older here, the sandstone rougher and pocketed as if hewn from a sea cave. On the side of either door, bronze mermaids tall than Isabella stood holding basins filled with green flickering flames. Their bodies were tarnished to blue in some places, signifying their age. Everything looked so out of place...Isabella just had to know what lied inside.

Surprisingly, the doors budged at the slightest of touches, swinging open silently.

This room was a bedroom, though significantly larger than the other bedrooms. A giant circle lined with pillars gave way to the open horizon, letting in soft mist that humidified the air. The floors were adorned with stones and jewels, a myriad of colors creating gorgeous pictures at her feet that sparkled with life in the sunshine. The ceiling was domed and decorated just as ornately, a chandelier made of sea glass hanging from the center. A breeze blew through the room, curtains billowing into clouds and setting off the sound of chimes.

Near the back of the room, two figures drew Isabella's attention. One was male, lying still in a large bed hewn from driftwood under sheets of cerulean blue. The other was female, sitting in a chair leaning over the bed, attending to the man. Melodic tones came from the woman's mouth, the most enchanting of songs that lured Isabella closer. Was this a siren? A woman of the water that she heard so much about as a child - the kind that would lure sailors to their deaths and drown them in the murky depths below? This woman seemed far too sweet to be a siren. Besides, she had chosen the wrong prey if that were the case, the man lying unresponsive to her lovely ditty.

In her daze, Isabella missed her footing and stumbled into a pedestal.

The pedestal then tipped over just enough to knock off the large basin resting on top. Blessedly, the beautifully ornate dish did not break nor crack upon impact, but it did create the loudest clanging noise which filled the entire room. Isabella's cheeks flushed a dark red, embarrassment coloring her from head to toe. All she wanted to do was creep out of the room, crawl in a hole, and never emerge. However, that was not to be, for she attracted the attention of the woman, her gaze snapping to her in an instant and pinning Isabella in place.

"Sorry, I did not mean to intrude," Isabella apologized, ducking her head to scamper back out of the room.

"You are not intruding, child," the woman said, her tone soothing like a balm. "Come, sit."

Isabella found herself obeying, unable to fight against the sway of the woman's voice. There was an empty chair on the opposite side of the bed facing the woman, near the head of the sleeping man. From this close, Isabella could make out more details of his face. Tan skin was weathered and worn from years of sun, though it still gave off a youthful glow. His face was composed of sharp lines and angles, full lips and pointed nose, defined cheekbones framed by light, and wispy blond hair. The woman gently stroked his cheek down to his chin, her touch careful as if he could break at any moment. Though, that was a silly notion; the man was built like a mountain. Even lying down, Isabella could tell that his form was impressive.

The woman appeared fragile in comparison. Small and petite, her frame was lithe and lean. Brown hair fell down into natural curls around her shoulders. Dark eyes were focused on nothing but him, their depths nearly infinite in their love. Isabella could feel her devotion pouring into the air. It was all-present, unable to be ignored.

"I am - "

" - Isabella," the woman said before Isabella could finish, stealing the words from her mouth. "The mortal the river brought in some time last night. Emmett told me of your arrival. My name is Esme."

They way she spoke, as if predicting Isabella's next words, was unnerving. The only thing that lessened Esme's intensity was the fact that, outside of her initial request for Isabella to join her, she had not looked at Isabella since. Esme did not directly speak to her, instead choosing to direct her words to the man in bed. Her level of attention to the man was so acute, that Isabella just had to know who he was.

"And who is he?"

"This is what remains of my love, the lord of these parts, the God of the Ocean."

 _This is the Ocean God?_ Isabella thought, her eyes widening in disbelief. Suddenly, she felt very out of place, as if she were showing some kind of disrespect by being so close to such a revered entity.

"He was not what you were expecting," Esme said, reading Isabella's face like an open book.

"It is just...from what I had been told...I was made to believe that the Ocean God had disappeared."

"In a way, he has," Esme lamented, brushing back stray strands of hair from his forehead. "My love was once so vivacious, so active in his kingdom. Now, he sleeps, as he has for millennia."

The pain in Esme's voice was so raw, it was hard not to feel exactly what she felt, which was a crippling sadness. Isabella looked around and tried to envision the palace under the Ocean God's reign. It must have been infinitely more lively, these enormous halls filled with creatures of all kinds. She thought back to the large room full of reclining chairs and benches covered in dust and all the guest rooms left unoccupied.

"When will he wake?"

"It is uncertain," Esme sighed, as if this was a difficult topic to talk about. "A curse was what placed him in the binds of eternal sleep, and it is not one that can be easily broken. Every day, I feel his power wane. Though mighty in name, he is fading from this world. If he sleeps for much longer, I fear he may never wake."

"What curse?"

This was the first time such a curse had been mentioned. It seemed rather cliched, as if something out of a fairytale, and that was saying something given the nature of this land.

"It is not my place to tell," Esme said with a sad smile. "Perhaps, you should ask your husband."

"My husband does not like to tell me much."

"A wise decision," Esme mused, returning her attention to the Ocean God. "Nothing good can come of knowing too many truths. There is only so much innocence one can preserve in this place, and every bit is precious."

"I fear that my innocence is all but shattered," Isabella admitted. "I went seeking answers in the wrong places, and now I fear I have created a rift that is unable to be healed."

"That may be, but perhaps it was time for the rift to be opened. Too long has this side of the river stagnated in its ancient ways. Perhaps, it is time for change."

Isabella decided that she liked Esme. The woman, though strange, had a way of twisting dark realities into possible positive outcomes, and where there was hope, there was always a way to make things right. Perhaps change was what was needed. Perhaps good could come out of this mess after all.

"Do you think that this change could bring the Ocean God back?"

"I can hope, and I can pray," Esme said, clutching onto the Ocean God's hand tightly. "If not, then I will continue my vigil. I shall sit by my love's side while he sleeps, and will be there when he wakes, no matter how long it takes."

There was such an intimacy in her words that Isabella felt like now was a good time to take her leave. She had overstayed her welcome in their personal, sacred space and she would bother the couple no longer.

"Have you seen the River God?" Isabella asked with the intention to leave to find him and seek further clarity on what she had discovered here.

"Edward?" Esme clarified, tilting her head to the side curiously. "Yes, he visited earlier. I had missed him dearly...that boy...he has been away for so long. My love missed him as well. I could feel it."

"Do you have any idea where I could find him?"

"When Edward was here before, his favorite place was the pavilion. You will have the best chance of finding him there."

Isabella smiled and conveyed her thanks once more before rising and leaving the room. Esme did not wave goodbye nor indicate she had even noticed Isabella's departure, too fixated on watching the minute shifts and changes in her love's face. Esme was a good wife, a doting wife. She was the kind of wife Edward must have expected Isabella to be, and was disappointed when she turned out not to be. But something told her that Esme and the Ocean God had founded a relationship based on something other than lies and abuse. They had something real that not many others got - a once in a lifetime chance at something transcendent. If Isabella had a love like that, she would wait for it for millennia as well.

Though she had no idea where the pavilion was, it was not hard to guess at its location. There was a large outdoor area near the back of the palace full of lounging areas and multiple levels of connecting floors. At the bottom-most floor, there was a walk that led out into the water with stairs at the end that went down, down, down, until they disappeared beneath the waves. The walk was lined with pure gold railing woven into interlacing spirals, making sure that no one accidentally fell over into deeper waters. Not that the water was too deep, the walk ending above shallow pools filled with colorful fish that frolicked in schools around equally as vibrant reefs. Ocean creatures seemed so much more lively than river ones, a rainbow of possibility that let her know that there was beauty even in inhospitable forces of nature.

Sure enough, Edward stood near the stairs, leaning against the golden railing. His arms were braced at his sides for support, his robes open to expose his bandaged chest. Isabella was unsure that he should be up and moving, but the sunlight mixed with the salty air seemed to do some good for his peace of mind, all the sharper, crueler edges ebbed away. From this distance, he looked normal, mortal even, though he would cringe to hear such a blasphemous thought.

At the sound of her padded, sandaled steps, Edward turned to acknowledge her.

"Try not to be so alarmed. I know this is a lot for a mortal to take in at once," Edward said as Isabella neared the edge where the view of the ocean was prime. From the walk, a tundra of blue was all she could see, and yet it did not scare her as it did before. Not now that she understood the difference between waterways. Obviously Edward was waiting for panic, for her to skitter back and seek shelter from a domain she had to assume was his upon first glance. He would have to be sorely disappointed.

"I have seen the ocean before," Isabella said defensively, not in the mood to be patronized right off the bat.

"You have?"

Edward seemed surprised, his brows near his hairline.

"Jacob took me once," she said proudly, enjoying the way his smug pride crumbled at the sound of the Shapeshifter's name.

However, bringing him up also brought on a sense of melancholy. Looking out at the waves lapping gently at the shore, Isabella found herself missing Jacob. Her heart ached for him, for the struggles he must have been enduring. She wondered if they had found Emily's body, had dragged it out from the wreckage and laid her to rest alongside Sam. She did not know what the traditions were for a Shapeshifter funeral, but she imagined a large pyre climbing high into the night while the brothers all sang traditional songs.

Isabella wondered what this meant for Jacob in general. Was he going to reassume his role as the alpha? Would he be forced to lead despite his want not to, or would Leah seize power for herself. She seemed the type that was hungry to lead, and Jacob would let her; his guilt would assure that. Isabella also felt badly for the forest, mourning the loss of two children. She could not imagine that kind of pain, even for an entity as old as time itself.

"He also told me tales of the Ocean God," Isabella said after a moment, distracting herself from those less pleasant thoughts. "All good things, never fear."

He huffed in annoyance, leaning over the railing once more. "I am surprised that a race so young would know of a god so old."

"Jacob spoke of a god of legend, one so powerful that creatures still trembled at the sound of his name," Isabella spoke grandly, exaggerating the introduction herself for the sake of keeping the conversation light.

"There was never any need to tremble," Edward replied, his tone containing small bits of mirth. "I do not think my father is capable of hurting a fly."

"He sounds like a benevolent god."

Isabella found herself thinking back to earlier, to the blond man lying in the bed. Even asleep, he seemed at peace. And his domain, it was so warm and inviting. It was easy to believe the benevolent picture Edward painted. She tried to envision what he would be like awake - if he would share his sons' golden eyes, if he would smile like Emmett or speak so eloquently as Edward did.

"He is. An example for all to follow," Edward agreed, though there was sadness in his gaze, as if remembering his father brought him immense pain. He looked around, behind him to the tall pillars of sandy stone, and crinkled his nose in distaste. "Now all that is left of his is his palace."

"That is not true. I saw him just now, lying in bed. Even in rest, he appeared strong."

"He has been asleep for many thousands of years, Isabella. The world has changed since he last roamed freely. Even if he were to wake, there is no telling if the man who reemerges is truly my father," Edward replied bitterly, frowning as he picked at stray hems on his robes. "Emmett seems to think that he will never wake."

"How so?"

"His assumptions do not need to be voiced. His actions speak loud enough on their own," Edward said, eyes narrowing into slits as anger laced its way into his tone. "He has taken my father's trident, his throne, his home. All he needs is Father's titles and Emmett will become the Ocean God."

"I may know very little about the politics of your world, but I have gathered enough to know that just because your brother wears your father's robes, does not mean that he can usurp him," Isabella comforted the best she knew how, though she kept her distance. They were not familiar enough to warrant any intimate contact, so words would have to do. Just the thought of his touch made her skin crawl, but she was not heartless. Edward was hurting, and as awkward as it was, she wanted to help. "Besides, I doubt your mother would ever allow such a thing."

"My mother?" Edward asked, eyes narrowed as if he did not know who she spoke of.

"The beautiful woman who sits by your father's side."

"Esme is not my mother. I was borne of the river, which is why she allows me take her domain."

"The river is a woman?" she asked as she envisioned a lovely blue creature with long hair sculpted out of a waterfall, fish jumping from one strand to the next as her eyes swirled in hypnotizing crystalline whirlpools.

"All strong bodies of water are."

"And I suppose this is where you say something along the lines of 'a strong woman needs a strong man to guide her'," Isabella prompted, anticipating something derogatory to come from his inflated ego.

"Nothing of the sort. It is a privilege to be in the presence of such power," Edward said, shaking his head as he looked out into the waves with something akin to awe. "I have not been here in so long, I almost forgot what the ocean was like. She used to be so much more alive. So free. Her swells were never the same, changing as quickly as her mood. Now that Esme stays by my father's side, the waves turn in with mechanical force, like a metronome keeping time, no life nor personality. It makes me sad to see her this way."

"Does Esme have domain over the ocean as well?"

The corners of his lips quirked up in a smirk. "Think bigger."

Isabella followed Edward's gaze, his eyes locked onto the deep blue abyss, and suddenly, the answer clicked. Her eyes widened as the realization hit her, as well as the magnitude of it.

"Esme... _is_ the ocean?"

"Not all of her, just a small part. She is still very much present in the waves," Edward explained and smiled again, though this time it was genuine as well as filled with something else. Longing? "My father so loved the ocean, and the ocean so loved him in return, that she crafted herself a body of flesh and bone to walk amongst the gods."

Isabella was at a loss, her mind reeling with this new development. Her mind replayed her interactions with Esme, seeing nothing out of the ordinary (at least by godly standards of what was considered normal behavior). To the outside eye, Esme was the same as every other immortal. Except she wasn't. She was so much more and yet she was so much simpler and kinder than any god Isabella had encountered. Esme was friendly to a stranger, welcoming and maternal to the point where Isabella felt an ache in her chest for her own mother. Isabella felt safe around her, and that was a trait that was hard to come by in this land. And yet, this woman was the compilation of the deepest, darkest, most expansive entity in the known world. That, and she must have given up so much to limit herself to a bodily form. Her love for her god certainly knew no limits, and Isabella found herself craving what Esme had. Even through all the pain and waiting, Isabella would rather deal with eons of separation knowing that her love was asleep and waiting to rejoin her in the land of the awake instead of living with the pain of her loveless marriage.

"H-how is that possible?"

"You should know by now that very little is impossible, especially here."

It was the way he said _here_ that let Isabella know that he was not just referring to this side of the river, but his father's domain in particular.

"What is so special here?"

"This place is unlike any other. It is here where all the waters of the world meet, a merging point between the land of mortals and gods. My father chose to build his palace here so he could always be close to those who needed him."

"Time moves differently here," Edward stated cryptically, piquing Isabella's curiosity.

"Differently?"

"We stand at the world's edge. Grow too close to the horizon and you fall off the face of the known universe and into the Great Beyond. Because of this, time moves slower, almost at a stand-still. Weeks could pass on the outside and we would not feel it at all."

"Does that mean Aro cannot reach us here?"

Hope blossomed in Isabella's chest. It was as if someone had relieved an invisible pressure; the monster at their heels had stayed and they were in the clear. So long as time remained still, nothing could get to them. They could stay in opposite corners of this little utopia and Isabella could live out the rest of her days in relative comfort and -

"Yes, but we cannot stay here forever. It was part of my banishment, that I no longer be welcomed in my father's domain. I am bending the conditions of my exile by remaining here, but as far as I am concerned, you have already shattered them," Edward stated plainly, laying no blame on her, but that still did nothing to prevent the words from weighing her down, all of her building visions of the future vanishing like smoke. "That being said, I would not want to bring Aro's fury onto the remainder of my family."

"The remainder? You mean the curse that fell upon your father?"

Edward grimaced. "Esme told you then."

"She did not say much, only that the story was not hers to tell."

"She is right. It is not her story to tell. It is mine," Edward admitted, lips set into a terse, thin line as he anticipated Isabella's next words. "One that I am not yet ready to share."

Isabella silenced herself, catching the words from falling off her lips. He knew her well by now, that much was evident. Questions were all she ever rattled off in his presence, and she wondered if she were beginning to sound repetitive, like an annoying little bird.

"We shall remain here until my wounds heal, and then we will leave," Edward continued, his gaze never wavering from in front of him, as if the ocean held the answers to all his problems.

Thought that sounded like a swell plan, Isabella had to hold it with a grain of salt. Her husband was not in the best condition. Still, after two days of rest, he was looking no better. Though he did not sway on his feet nor pass out from the pain, he flinched whenever moving was an option. He grimaced as he turned, golden streaks visible on his bandages. _God-given wounds took longer to go away,_ she remembered hearing somewhere. Still, They were worrisome, and though she knew he would not die from any physical wound, she pitied him. A lifetime worth of suffering and discomfort did not seem like a better alternative to death.

And then, there was the idea of jumping right out of recovery back into the fray. It seemed like a maddening move to attract the attention of a vengeful primordial right after a narrow win. Like tempting fate.

"You are banished, I am not. Why can I not stay here?" Isabella asked, liking the comfort and protection the Ocean God's domain provided. It was peaceful here, serene and trouble-free. This was the only place other than the Shapeshifter's camp where she felt truly content.

"You are not safe here, not alone. Without me, you are a sitting duck for my sister to pluck at her leisure. She does not take kindly to me, and to humans even less so," Edward shook his head, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. "Besides, though this is a place of peace, it is a sanctuary for gods, not mortals. Our treaties and accords do not apply to you."

Isabella frowned deeply, not liking that answer at all. And there she thought she was finally gaining some kind of mutual respect from these people.

"What of the Shapeshifters? I am sure they shall take me back."

Edward snorted, throwing his head back as he barked out a laugh. "After you murdered two of their pack? They are loyal, but not _that_ loyal. Despite the circumstances that led to Emily's demise, you have tarnished that relationship. Come to that realization now, and save yourself heartache in the future."

"But if I was just given the chance to explain, then surely they would all see what I was forced to choose between. They would understand, I know they would. And Jacob - "

"Jacob does not _love_ you," Edward snapped, finally sick of hearing about the dogs that caged him for so long and his wife's sickening obsession with them. "Jacob does not even _care_ about you. He is the Alpha now - the Alpha _you_ made him. He has more important things to do; he has his own people to look out for - not a human who kept his bed warm while she ran away from her duty as a wife."

His response was savage, primal in its anger. As if Isabella had finally pressed one button too many. Her eyes welled up with tears that stung at the corners. Out of all the things he had said to her, this one was the most callously cruel. Cruel in the way that it was probably true, and over her rotting corpse would she entertain the notion that he was right about someone she felt so passionate about.

He could not be right...he just... _could not_. The love she felt for Jacob was not fake. It was real. It was true. It coursed through her bones and veins and pumped into her very soul. And yet, there it was: the first seedling of doubt planted like a poisonous vine squeezing around her heart and making it bleed.

Here she thought her husband was capable of change, capable of showing compassion and remorse. Obviously she was wrong. A snake could not change its scales no matter how beaten and broken it became.

"You know _nothing_ about my life," Isabella hissed through the lump in her throat, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. "You know nothing about my _love_."

"Oh Isabella," Edward sighed weakly, so much pain in those golden eyes that had nothing to do with his wounds. "You act as though I have not seen this played out before."

Bottom lip trembling, Isabella could stomach Edward's presence no longer. She could tolerate his words no longer. So, she ran from the pavilion.

Everything felt like it was crashing around her, like she was back inside of her husband's palace except the marble had actually managed to crush her flat. Her heart was being buried under rocks and it was all his fault.

Why did he have to ruin everything?


	20. The Wanderers

The Wanderers

On the second night of their stay, Emmett announced a banquet to be held in honor of Edward's return.

Rose, naturally, was less than pleased. Isabella watched as she stormed from the throne room with a righteous fury. The water that lined the space roiled in its confines, the tides running turbulent to match her mood. Edward was also uncomfortable with this celebration; perhaps because he did not feel as though it was necessary, perhaps because he did not wish to be in his siblings' company. Isabella could not discern the reasons. She could only discern that Edward was irate, and went to bed earlier than usual, refusing any help in cleaning his wounds.

Isabella was worried. Her husband seemed to be declining in health and rapidly. It had only been two days, and yet Edward seemed to be getting worse instead of better. Isabella did not know that gods could become ill. She always thought them impenetrable, infallible creatures whom nature could not touch. Now, looking upon her miserable husband as he suffered from some godly affliction, she could help but wonder what the difference between god and mortal was at all besides the divine right to a domain.

He was a sickly, miserable mess wallowing in his own self-pity.

Which was exactly how she found him the next morning, tossing and turning in bed, covered in a sheen of sweat plastered across his pasty skin. She had no reason for entering his chambers in the first place, but she was grateful she had. Though she no knowledge of how to help, what would help him, and what would worsen his condition, she could only hope that some things were universal.

 _A cool cloth ought to do some good with the fever,_ Isabella thought. She walked over to the tap near the bath and acquired a small basin, filling it with fresh water. Then, she pulled a drying cloth from a nearby rack and made her way over to her husband's bedside.

The sheets would have to be changed as well, the sweat and some ichor soaking through the linen. It seemed as though he had been bleeding for forever. Isabella remembered what Emily had told her, that ichor was precious and not meant to be spilt. She wondered how much longer he could keep going before the balance of nature decided he was squandering his birthright. As much as she previously would have wished for his death, Edward's demise no longer brought her pleasure. Now, it only brought her brief sadness.

"What are you doing?"

Isabella looked up to see the River God, his golden eyes cracked open blearily, staring at her with curiosity.

"Making sure you do not die."

Though she was loathe to admit it, she needed him. They had faced unimaginable odds together, and he was her only route to surviving another day. When they returned to the river, things may be different. Isabella would have to try to plead with Jacob, get him to see her side of things or at least make her peace with her actions. She was not a coward. She would make this right and hopefully gain back the man that she loved. It would break her heart if Jacob shunned her, if he cast her out and chose to believe she was a monster, but she would not blame him. Emily's body run clean through was an image that she could not shake. Sometimes, when she was alone at night, she thought she saw Emily's ghost ready to torment her.

"I did not think you cared whether I lived or died," he rumbled, though there was no malice in his tone. He just looked...weak. And what a scary notion that was. "Why are you here Isabella?"

"I am your wife."

She reapplied the cloth to his forehead, and he shivered at the touch. Isabella did not know if that was a good sign or not. She was not a healer, unfamiliar with ailments of the body. She was merely going off of what her father told her he had done to fix his fellow men out in the field.

"Well, if this is not a heartfelt sight," came the waspish voice of Rose from the doorway. The woman looked remarkable as she always did, blonde hair set in an elaborate chignon with curls spilling out overtop of her bronzed, bare shoulders. Her robes were white today, golden jewelry flashing in the sunlight. Out of everyone Isabella had encountered, Rose was the only one in this entire land who emulated 'worship me'. Rose was the only one in this entire land she feared more than her husband.

Edward only sighed in annoyance, shooting his sister a glare. "If it bothers you so much, there is an entire palace in which you can occupy you time instead of seeking us out."

"Trust me, if I did not have to be here, I would not," Rose assured, her lips pursed in a frown as she did not like to be talked back to.

"Then what do you want?"

"Emmett has requested your presence in the Great Hall. Both of your presences, actually."

"We will be naught a minute," Edward replied evenly, gesturing for Isabella to gather his robes. "You do not have to wait."

"I was not," Rose said with finality, turning on her heel and exiting the room as quickly as she came.

Isabella did not bid her farewell or even attempt to look as she exited. Instead, she bent over the trunk in the corner, fishing out freshly washed robes. They were also white in color, and briefly she wondered about the change.

"That was...pleasant," Isabella finally spoke up, keeping her tone neutral.

"My sister's moods are as unpredictable and tumultuous as the tides she commands," Edward said, glancing apologetically at Isabella as she passed him the new robes. He did not say anything about the color, so maybe it was not as important as Isabella had thought. "Do not take offense at her words; none of the anger she feels is directed towards you. It is just her way to lash out at everything in her path."

"Will you ever tell me why she despises you so?"

"I thought you would be pleased to see me so despised, seeing as though you share her sentiments," he deflected.

Isabella did not respond, her lips pursed in a thin line. She deserved that, part of her accepted. She deserved a lot more than that. But what she did not deserve was being slighted for trying to help.

The River God mustered up the strength to push himself out of bed. Leaning up on his elbows, he careened his legs to the side and stood. Isabella rushed to help him so he did not fall, as wobbly on his legs as a newborn foal. When their skin touched, she felt a burn unlike any other. It scorched through the point of contact through her veins, and she immediately backed away. The River God faltered, feeling the same amount of pain, pulling his arm back from her as he stumbled into the bed frame. He rubbed at the reddened skin, glaring at it furiously.

"I am sorry," Isabella apologized, though she knew not what for. She only felt that the burning came on when she touched him. It had happened before as well, though she had not paid it much mind. At first she believed it was because of the vow her husband made, but now it was affecting her as well. Something had changed, but what was the question.

The River God merely grunted, steadying himself on his own this time. He shuffled over to the privacy screen, pulling it closed as he put on his robes. However, Isabella caught a flash of bare skin, revealing bruising around the slashes on his sides and back. The slashes themselves were still wrapped in gauze, but the bruising was spreading out from underneath the wrappings like a spiderweb, covering his torso in macabre artwork.

"You will need to have your wounds cleaned soon," Isabella spoke up, trying not to let the fear creep in.

"They will heal on their own," Edward refuted, not in the mood to listen to her advice.

"Have you seen them? Have you seen yourself?"

"Spare me your pity," Edward sneered, reappearing from behind the divide clad in the white robes. The shade only made him look paler, golden veins staining his thin skin yellow. "The show for Rose was endearing, but do not pretend like you care what happens to me."

"There is a difference between liking you and having compassion," Isabella said, growing heated.

How could he not see how ill he was? How could he ignore what was clearly causing him pain? Did he not want to get better?

"I shall hear no more of this, and that is final," he said tersely, his tone suggesting that any fight would be futile.

They both walked in silence down the halls, keeping as much space as possible between them. Isabella was infuriated at his pigheadedness, and did not wish to be so riled up when it came time to face Rose once more. There was much more patience and virtue that would need to be channeled to stay strong through whatever was awaiting them. Edward also seemed tense, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. The nerves worse the closer they got to the throne room, the sound of rushing water growing louder until it drowned out all other noise.

Emmett was not seated upon the throne, but merely standing on the center platform next to Rose. They appeared to be engaged in a heated debate, heads close together and voices hushed while the water that circled the platform rose and fell with each surge of Rose's emotion. Emmett did not seem pleased, normally-joyful mouth pulled into a deep frown as Rose crinkled her nose and prattled on about something unknown. This seemed to set Edward off, not liking being kept on the outside.

"Had I known that this was a private conversation, I would not have bothered showing up," he greeted his siblings, displeasure clear. For once, his bad attitude served him well, as Isabella felt equally as slighted by the inconsideration.

"Brother, forgive me, I did not see you approach," Emmett apologized formally, pulling away from Rose who looked displeased at the interruption even though she had no right. She was the one who called them here after all.

"What is this about? Rosalie said there was news you wished to share."

"No news from my lips, merely news I wished to moderate in case tensions ran too high."

"What does that mean?" Edward asked pointedly, glaring from Emmett to Rose. Isabella also got a bad feeling about this 'news'. Whatever it was, all eyes gravitated towards Rose, who folded her hands primly in front of her and cleared her throat.

"I invited the Wanderers to the banquet."

The water rocking in its bed so far that the swells came upon the platform, soaking through the hems of everyone's robes. The tension in the room escalated so quickly, that Isabella thought that she was going to have to take cover. Edward's eyes flashed a terrifying gold, and though she had seen those eyes be cruel, she had never before seen them with the intent to kill. Rose stood her ground, hands turned into fists that Isabella knew had to hurt far more than they looked.

Now Isabella understood why Emmett wished to moderate. The two looked ready to tackle each other to the ground, and there was no way Edward could withstand a brawl in his condition.

"And what compelled you to think that was in any way a good idea?" Edward seethed, his voice barely constrained from a yell.

"This once, I have to agree with Edward," Emmett said gently, looking between both parties, highly concerned. "The Wanderers are - "

"Eccentric, yes," Rose cut Emmett off, never once taking her eyes off of Edward as she deliberately delivered bad news. "But they are still family, and I assumed that since Edward was welcomed back with open arms, we may as well draw back the whole clan for a family dinner.

"A shared element hardly makes them family," Edward sneered.

"They are more my family than _you_."

"Rosalie, please, this is not the time to enact your petty version of justice," Emmett implored, his hand on her chest physically holding her back from stepping any closer to Edward. "Think this through. The last time the Wanderers came here, chaos reigned and you could not get them out fast enough."

"Centuries can change people," Rose shrugged, seemingly unconcerned.

"You are willing to pardon those... _heathens_...and yet, you will not pay me the same kindness?" Edward asked, and while he was still on his high horse and full of righteous fury, Isabella knew her husband well enough to recognize the hurt that lingered underneath.

Rose's eyes could not have been colder than when she said, "Precisely."

With that, there was nothing left to discuss. Rose had invited unwanted guests with the sole purpose to spite Edward in the worst way, and it worked.

Defeated, Edward lowered his gaze, the golden glow in his eyes dying down and the water returning back to a calm state. Satisfied, Rose took a step back, no longer needing Emmett to restrain her even though his hand print was bright red across her sternum. She picked up her robes and sauntered off, her mission in ruining everyone else's day yet again complete.

* * *

Isabella was surprised that Edward agreed to attend dinner.

She had presumed that Rose's childish, unacceptable display in the throne room would have excused him from having to make an appearance, but she had thought wrong. Skipping a banquet thrown in one's own honor was not in good taste, something that transferred over to both the mortal and godly world. No doubt there would be more hell to pay if Rose planned an entire dinner and was not there to torture the guest of honor. She would be irate that she had been robbed of the pleasure, and Emmett would never hear the end of it.

So, to get the pain and suffering over with, Edward pulled on his best robes - a cyan color edged in gold and embroidered with golden laurels - and arrived to the dining hall with Isabella on his arm.

Isabella was not on his arm exactly; no, they maintained a safe distance. She was not that committed to making the statement of a loving couple when they were anything but. No, she drew the line at matching robes, her own cyan and gold attire tying her to her husband in too many ways for her liking. However, the golden laurels on her head and wrapped around her throat and wrists were accessories that felt powerful to wear. They made her feel more like a god, more ready to face Rose head-on instead of backing into a corner like the scared human Rose wanted her to be.

All eyes were focused on them as they took their seats along the table. There were enough places set for a dozen guests, but only Emmett and Rose were currently occupying the space. There was also an abundance of food - whole roasts and fish filleted and marinated with spices and sauces that made Isabella's stomach rumble. Along with the bread, fruit, and other side dishes, it was enough to feed all the gods this side of the river.

Perhaps the palace was still used to providing for the legendary parties Isabella had heard bits and pieces of in passing. Or perhaps Rose just wanted to show off her wealth as well as her power, reminding Edward of all he threw away and could never have again.

"I see we are short two guests," Edward commented snidely, making sure Rose knew he was talking to her.

"Patience, _brother,_ " she chided, her smile so fake that Isabella thought it would break her face for stretching so far.

The clock ticked on, and they were still the only four at the table. Esme did not show up for dinner, something about which Isabella was most upset. Out of everyone she had met, she preferred Esme's presence the most. She had a soothing presence that made Isabella feel as though she was more than just an insignificant spec in the infinite cosmos.

By the time an hour had passed, Isabella was starving. She had not eaten all day in preparation for the banquet, but she did not dare to take a plate until everyone else did lest Rose decide to evaporate her for poor manners. She pleaded with the stars in the sky to deliver the Wanderers, whoever they were, soon so that she did not faint from hunger.

She should have been careful in what she wished for.

The doors to the banquet hall blew open with a crash, a gust of wind ripping through the space, extinguishing a few of the candles on the chandelier.

The oddest couple walked in hand in hand, and Isabella did everything in her power not to stare.

The woman was very petite and waspish, her dark hair cut in short spikes around her heart-shaped face and a flower crown of wilting daisies seated upon her head. Her skin was so pale it was nearly the color of snow, the only color appearing in circles of pink on her cheeks and bright shock of red across her lips. And the eyes...they were so huge and black...it was unnerving. And her robes! They were blue, but the color of cornflower and worn so many times that it looked to be layers upon layers of ragged rags that fell to the ground to form an uneven train. She looked like a devious sprite, the kind her father used to tell stories of and how they would sneak into places and steal things from naughty children. All she was missing was the pointed ears.

The man was even more unsettling. He was tall and broad, towering over the woman. His skin was just as pale as the woman's, and his eyes just as dark, but his hair was golden and fell to his shoulders in stringy pieces as if it were perpetually wet. His lips were set in a firm line so hard that Isabella wondered how hairpin cracks did not form around his mouth. He wore robes of pewter grey, in a style as modest and plain as the Elders who raised Isabella.

Together, they swept through the space and claimed their seats: the woman next to Rose and the man next to Edward. They did not say a word, as if they had brought silence and unease with them. Isabella could tell immediately why everyone had their reservations about including them, and so held her breath, unsure of how to handle their new guests. Judging by how uncomfortable Emmett now looked, he was in the same situation.

"Welcome, Jasper," Emmett said with forced joy, nodding to the man who only grunted in response before turning to the woman and saying, "Alice, it is lovely to see you."

"Thank you for the invitation," the woman, Alice, chirruped, her voice the highest pitch Isabella thought possible. Like chimes in the wind or a birdsong. "Though, I do confess it was a surprise. We have not heard word from you in so long, we thought that you had forgotten us."

"Five hundred and twenty four years to be exact" Jasper said crisply, his dark eyes missing nothing, his contempt palpable. For the first time, Rose looked mildly uncomfortable, and shifted in her seat. Jasper seemed to care not about causing discomfort, doing away with niceties. "Certainly, we have missed a lot. Your father sleeps, and yet, your brother roams - an unexpected shift in events."

"A temporary situation, I assure you," Rose assuaged, that sweet veneer convincing enough to appease Jasper at least momentarily. "Edward was just telling us how he plans to leave as soon as possible."

"Is that so?" Jasper asked, not buying her act. "What a lavish and extravagant waste of resources to throw a banquet for someone who is only going to turn around and leave. Though I suppose you have always had a penchant for stoking your own ego."

Isabella savored the way Rose gaped like a fish, and from the corner of her eye, she could see Edward enjoying it too.

"Now now dear, do not be cross. We discussed this earlier," Alice chided softly, patting Jasper's hand gently across the table. "They cannot help it that it is in their nature to be vain and boastful."

"Food!" Emmett announced, or more like shouted across the table to detract from inflammatory dialogue being created. "Everyone, take a plate and please enjoy the banquet!"

 _Bless you_ , Isabella praised Emmett, grateful to fill her ravenous stomach with something.

Everything smelled divine, and looked even better. She wanted a bit of everything, filling her plate with meats and cheeses and exotic things she had never seen before until there was absolutely no room left. To hell with her image. These people already hated her. If she ate like a savage or displayed the best manners in the world, it would do nothing to change their opinion of her. So, she placed her napkin on her lap, readied her utensils, and tucked in.

Before she could take a bite, Edward's hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. Despite the burn they both felt, as sharp and insistent as a hundred bee stings, he held on until she finally dropped her fork. It fell up on her plate with a raucous clatter, drawing everyone's attention.

"Do not eat that," Edward insisted, the look in his eyes murderous, but not towards her. He looked over to Rose, who wore an disingenuous expression of surprise. "Isabella cannot have ambrosia, and you know that."

Ambrosia. Isabella had heard that word before, had learned about it from the Elders. It was the sacred food of the gods, their main source of nourishment that came in a variety of forms. While ambrosia sustained the gods, if a human was to consume any, it would burn them from the inside out. The death was supposed to be excruciating, one of the worst ways to go, and Isabella was one bite away from experiencing it firsthand.

"It must have slipped my mind," Rose replied, her tone simpering, offering not even an apology. "Unfortunately, there was nothing else prepared that is safe for the human to eat."

"That is fine," Isabella said, clearing her throat as she worked through the pain in her wrist as well as the fact of knowing that there was an attempt on her life and her husband had saved her...again. The plate that once seemed divine now looked sinister, and she pushed it away. "I seem to have lost my appetite."

"Perfect," Rose beamed, closing the discussion. That did not stop Edward from staring daggers into his sister's head for the time being. If looks could kill, Rose would have been dead thrice over.

"A human?" Alice perked up, leaning across the table with her focus set on Isabella. She felt as though the pixie woman was studying her, cataloging each and every detail. "How did a human wind up on these shores?"

"He is Edward's wife," Emmett answered, and Alice's ruby red mouth formed a perfect "oh" shape as she came to an understanding.

"Yes, a novel, if not annoying little pet," Rose mused, giving Isabella a simpering smile knowing that there was little Isabella could do to stand up for herself, and no one else was going to do it. Edward had exhausted his heroics for the night. Isabella was on her own.

"This palace was once a sanctuary for gods and gods alone. Now it is tainted by her presence," Jasper said in that scathing monotone, the look in his eye heavily disapproving.

"That is what I keep trying to tell Emmett," Rose sighed, taking a sip of wine, looking at him expectantly.

"This palace was once a great many things. But times change and now, it is my home. I can welcome who I please," Emmett said sternly, not liking being ganged up on. He stabbed his roast a little too forcefully, the prongs of the fork curling under his strength.

"Thank you, Emmett. I have felt welcomed by you and appreciate all you have done for Edward and I. I know it could not have been an easy decision allowing us to stay, and we could not be more grateful," Isabella said gratefully, thinking now was a good time to show appreciation for the one host she respected.

Rose leaned back in her seat, looking sharply at Isabella.

"Do you feel welcomed here, truly?"

"I feel as welcomed as I can be given the situation, and given the obstacles set by others."

Isabella had gone too far. She knew it the second the words left her mouth and Rose's smirk took on a cruel quality.

"There is a creature that roams in the darkest corners of the deepest abyss, with beady red eyes and scales of onyx and jaws so wide that it can swallow homes whole and teeth so sharp they can slice through bone like butter," Rose depicted much to Isabella's vivid horror. The goddess tilted her head to the side and quirked a smile. "Have you heard of this monster?"

Isabella shook her head deftly no, nor had she ever wished to.

"That is because it does not exist. But I would create it just to destroy you. Your own personal demon."

"Alright Rose that's _enough_ ," Edward snapped, rising from his seat and bracing both hands on the table. "You have made your point, now leave Isabella alone."

"She should consider it an honor that I would go out of my way to create a new species just for her."

"And you should consider it an honor that I do not choke the life out of you right where you sit."

"SILENCE!" Emmett roared, banging his fists down on the table. "There will be no more fighting at this table, are we understood?"

The air became thick, a glittering golden film cast over the room like a warm blanket. Isabella suddenly forgot why she was upset. She forgot why her arm was burning, why her heart was racing, why she feared for her life. She even harbored no resentment towards Rose, the only feelings residing in her heart positive ones. Instead, she felt safe and warm and completely at ease.

"Jasper, enough," Emmett said gently, raising his hand in a gesture of peace. "I do not think there shall be any more problems."

The man nodded once and the glittering haze wore off, yet the feelings of peace resided.

"Remember it is _I_ who controls the creatures of the deep, woman," Emmett chastised Rose, the blonde fuming for being so publicly humiliated. "You have gone too far and so I am calling this banquet to an end. Rose, we shall have more words. Now."

The two departed in tandem, Emmett sweeping his indigo robes behind him as he stormed away, Rose following close on his heels. Isabella did not want to be privy to that fight, but she secretly hope that Emmett would smack the blonde around a bit just to knock her poor attitude away. Whatever Rose was suffering from, whatever plagued her heart and made her cruel, she did not need to inflict on everyone else. If Emmett could rationalize with her, it would do everyone some good.

Edward stood up so full of anger that Isabella remained behind as he left the room. Whatever he was going to do, however he was going to handle his rage, she did not want to be anywhere near him while he did it. She had already had one brush with death today. She was not going to tempt fate again.

"Excuse me," Isabella said quietly yet politely, leaving Alice and Jasper and exiting out the side door.

She walked idly down the halls, a bit lightheaded and unsure of her destination, until she reached the large living area she had encountered the first night she arrived. It was just as enormous as she remembered, still as grand, and still as empty. Walking inside, it was even larger and emptier, the space extending on for what felt like forever. Isabella thought she could get lost in such a space had it not been flat and wide open. She flopped down on one of the ornate couches, the cushions groaning under the unfamiliar weight. She was lucky they still had enough integrity to hold her up, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the upholstery as the false happiness faded away and left only a hollow depression.

 _What are you doing Isabella?_ she asked herself. _What has your life come to?_

"Why are you so sad?"

Isabella turned around to see that she had been followed. Alice stood a few feet away, head cocked curiously to the side.

"A great many reasons...too many to name," Isabella sighed, and Alice came over and sat down next to Isabella on the couch, her legs too short to even brush the ground. They swung idly above the ground, Alice's bare feet making swishing noises as they brushed against her robes.

"I fear that The River God is going to die," she confessed, unsure as to why Alice would even care. It was not as though she was attached to Edward or relied on his wellbeing to keep her safe. The woman had said herself that it had been five hundred or so years since their last meeting.

"His wounds are substantial, yes, but he will not die," Alice disagreed, looking up at the ceilings covered in colorful murals. She studied them closely, as Isabella noticed she studied everything else. "Godly-inflicted wounds are tricky. They must first become worse to get better, and the scars will be permanent, which is a shame. Edward has always had such perfect physique."

There was a dreamy quality to Alice's voice, something that reminded Isabella of the way that the village girls used to talk about the boys they wished to marry and the lives they wanted to have. It was something romantic - a word she had not associated with Edward since their first meeting before things went awry.

"It has been quite some time since I have thought about him that way."

Alice shifted her shrewd gaze to Isabella, looking her up and down. She hummed to herself. "Something tells me you wish to keep it that way."

Isabella shook her head. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about her husband, a god, to another god whom he did not like.

"What did Jasper do earlier? The thing with the gold mist?" she chose to ask instead.

"Jasper is the god of a great many things, all of them tied to water, but some of them vastly misunderstood," Alice said vaguely, looking to find the right words in the murals above. "His domain includes rapids - quick moving waters that are hard to tame or predict. Emotions have a flow to them just as the rapids do, and so he can manipulate them, slow them, accelerate them...am I making sense?"

"So he...calmed us down?"

"In a sense, yes. He slowed the anger rushing through everyone's veins enough so that it felt sedating," Alice explained, making a bit more sense but not much. "The mist you spoke of is just an effect of the use of godly power. Usually, only mortals are so affected enough to notice it."

"And what are you the goddess of?"

"Springs and mountain creeks," Alice said proudly, puffing out her chest. "Or any trickling natural source of water, really."

"Wow, you are quite far from your domain."

"Yes, but the mountains will not miss me if I am gone a few days," she waved it off, as if she did this all the time. However, the sad look in her hyper-expressive eyes said just the opposite. "It can get lonely, living in isolation. I know that Rose and Emmett do not like Jasper nor I, that they call us eccentric and false family, but they are the closest consorts we have."

"I can understand being on the outside of their favor," Isabella sympathized, feeling badly for Alice. She seemed so sweet, not like the deranged monster that everyone had painted the Wanderers out to be. "Though, my mortal nature does draw some dislike, I cannot understand why they would not favor the company of fellow water deities."

"Rose has always been threatened by those she believes are stronger than she. Jasper and I do not comply to the normal standards set by gods, and so she is insecure on the basis that we do not care. Emmett, he merely follows Rose," Alice shrugged, as if she could find no good explanation. If she had left it at that, Isabella would have gone on in her belief that Rose was merely overreacting and lashing out as she usually did. But then Alice said, "Though, there was that time that I set a plague upon her household..."

Isabella turned to look at Alice with alarm. However, she did not get the chance to learn more because their party had grown by one person. One person with a music box that turned out the most lovely, haunting tune. Where it came from, Isabella did not know. More than likely found amongst the sea of furniture.

"Jasper!" Alice cried, the conversation forgotten as she spied her partner from across the way. She dashed up to him with frightening speed, grabbing him by the wrists though she was careful not to jostle the box. "Will you not dance with me?"

"Not tonight, love," he said apologetically, not budging from place even as Alice yanked on him with all her godly might. "Tonight, you must dance alone. Just as you used to under the solstice sun."

"The solstice! Oh, how darling!" Alice cried, running into the center of the room to spin circles. She was so light and dainty on her feet, moving as if she hovered just above the ground. "Do you remember how lovely the parties were? This whole palace used to be abuzz with life and merriment. Everyone would gather right here and spend hours singing and dancing and drinking. Carlisle would lead us in a serenade and Edward would play the most lovely tunes!"

"He would?"

"Oh yes!" Alice said, her circles nearing Isabella as she spun around her like a shark circling her prey. "Edward was the most talented harpist this side of the world! His playing could bring even cold-hearted Aro to tears."

Isabella thought back to the harp Edward gifted her when she first came to live with him. She thought of the elegant gold neck and intricate detailing and wondered if he had given up something that made him happy just to please her. The thought did not sit well, so she chose not to entertain it.

"He has not touched an instrument since Irina died. She used to love to hear him play..."

"Irina?"

"Beautiful, lovely Irina," Alice sing-songed, looking wistfully at the empty room. "Angelic, resplendent Irina..."

"Who?"

"He has not told you about her?" Alice asked, her deep dark eyes unnerving as they bored holes into Isabella's. "My my, what secrets The River God keeps from his new wife."

"Alice loves to tell stories," Jasper said, the first time he had addressed Isabella personally all night. She was unable to discern his iris from his pupil, though he stared as if he were looking right into her soul. "It would be in your best interest to proceed with anything she told you with caution."

Isabella swallowed and nodded, able to read Jasper's true meaning.

 _Drop the subject of Irina if you wish to remain in good graces._


	21. The Inevitable Decay

A/N: Hello loves! I don't know if I've ever told you guys this, but I'm actually in pharmacy school and it keeps me busy 99% of the time so I don't get a lot of free time. Sorry for the slow updates, and that it's not the summer and I can't update faster. Going as quick as I possibly can while still producing the same quality work. Hope you all enjoy this chapter! XOXOX

* * *

The Inevitable Decay

To rid herself of the infinite tedium and political tension around her, Isabella took to spending all her free time on the beach.

The beach was the only place where she could be alone with her thoughts. Now, she knew she was not truly alone; Esme's tides still rolled up to shore, tickling her toes in ice-cold waves, but there was no one around to disrupt her. There was no one to run into, especially Rose. She had become extra insufferable as a result of Jasper's unkind comments. While they were certainly warranted, no one in the palace appreciated them, as it made living with Rose unbearable. Her normal temper flared at an alarming rate, enough to rile Emmett into throwing her out of the dining hall in the morning for breakfast.

Of course, that was what Isabella had gleaned from afar. Her ears were simply tuned to hearing echoes of shouts from down the hall, and she corrected her path in the opposite direction accordingly.

The beach was calming. Soothing in a way that was rare to come by in this land. It reminded her of the creek in the Shapeshifter's land, the gurgle of the slow moving water lulling her into complacency. She missed the soft grass and wildflowers, the shade of trees. Out here, there was only a vast open desert of sand, and while it was powder soft, it got everywhere and left Isabella feeling like ants were crawling over her skin. Still, it was the best source of comfort she could find.

Strangely, Isabella found herself missing her mother. The maternal nature of the ocean, Esme's compassion, seeped its way out of the waves and into her soul. Isabella remembered what her father had told her once: the water was blue because it absorbed your sorrows. Perhaps that was true, because Esme was the most melancholy creature she had ever come across, and yet she was there, splashing at at Isabella's feet, bestowing compassion.

Then, Isabella realized the splashing was not the ocean itself, but someone else entirely.

"You are avoiding us," Alice spoke plainly and without judgement, reaching out one elbow to link her arm with Isabella's. It was a familiar gesture, one that Isabella was unaccustomed to receiving from these creatures. Still, she accepted it and stood arm in arm with Alice while they let the frigid waters lull them.

"That was not my intention."

"Yes it was," Alice refuted, once more lacking judgement. She only seemed curious. "I do not blame you for feeling stifled, for feeling unwanted. It is a commonality we both share. Besides, there is only so much of Rosalie's antics that one's sanity can bear before the urge to rip her pretty throat out becomes overwhelming."

Isabella blanched at the vivid example, nearly falling over in shock as a particularly strong swell rushed past her ankles. Looking down, the hem of her robes were soaked, as was Alice's tattered train.

"Oh dear, was that too violent?" Alice asked, looking upon Isabella with a pensive worry.

"No, only surprising."

"Really? I would think my opinion of Rosalie would be quite obvious. I know that yours is."

"I have tried not to make an enemy of her, but she seems hellbent on my destruction."

"She has always felt threatened by young, beautiful things. Always afraid of Emmett's wandering eyes."

That drew Isabella's attention, snapping her head to meet Alice's impish eyes. There was no sign of teasing there, only a slight disgust at Rose's behavior.

"Emmett? Why should she care about upon who he gazes?"

"Because then that would mean sharing him, and Rosalie does not like to share what she has claimed as her own, especially not her bedmate."

Isabella stalled, placing a hand to her chest. "Bedmate?"

"Bedmate," Alice repeated in confirmation, slowly this time in case she thought Isabella did not know the meaning of the word. "Paramour, lover, concubine. I would have thought that to be obvious as well."

"Forgive me, but are they not siblings?"

"Yes. What of it?" Alice asked, as if such a question was idiotic.

To Isabella, the notion was nauseating. However, she recalled Emily's words with a heavy heart - that there was much outside the scope of normal that happened in the realm of gods. What was considered strange or unacceptable to mortals did not apply to gods. They were magic of their own sort, lived by their own rules that outlasted Time itself.

"Nothing...it is just...where I am from, brothers and sisters do not serve as each other's bedmates," Isabella explained, hoping it would satisfy Alice's endless curiosity.

"Rose would not know that. She does not keep abreast of mortal dealings; in fact, she prides herself on her distance from mortal affairs. She would not know nor care that that was not how things were. All she sees is a gorgeous young woman, mortal and fleeting in her beauty, who has won the favor of her beloved brother. That is all she needs to hate you."

"You mean to say that Rose perceives me as a threat? That she believes I am trying to steal Emmett's heart?"

"Exactly," Alice confirmed with a nod and pride in her eyes, as if satisfied that Isabella was finally keeping up. "It does not matter what your true intentions are, or what you do, or what you say. In her twisted imagination, she has already perceived you as a whore. Which, I have heard on good authority is not a far-fetched assumption."

"Excuse me?"

"What? Am I misinformed?" Alice asked, genuinely curious. "Did you not run off to the forest and engage in coitus with a dog while still married to Edward?"

The phrase was blunt and without emotion, simple curiosity and expectation written on Alice's pale face. Isabella gaped like a fish, unable to form words. She did not know whether to feel ashamed, offended, or embarrassed, and so felt all three at once.

"I did not think that such a comment would cause you distress. It was not like you were hiding your relations; you positively reek of mange," Alice said brusquely, daintily waving the air in front of her nose as she wrinkled it. "Not the most practical choice in partner, but do tell, how was the sex? I have always wondered if their raw, primal energy was comparable to my own."

Isabella could not believe where this conversation was going. It was twisted and demented and the fact that Alice was more curious about what happened than the morality surrounding it was all the more jarring. Still, she said nothing, unable to formulate a respectable response. In fact, she felt rather ill, her stomach churning. Was Esme listening to this? Was she going to reach out, wrap the tides around her ankles and pull her into the depths of the deep dark abyss for such impertinence?

"My my, are all humans so impossibly sensitive?" Alice marveled, watching Isabella closely. Isabella felt like she was some kind of animal in a cage, something for Alice to study.

They stood in silence for a few minutes, Isabella waiting for the inevitable end to come and for Alice to lash out and tear Isabella to pieces just like everyone else had. Instead, what came was entirely opposite.

"Isabella, it is my nearest and dearest wish for us to be friends."

"Is it?"

"Of course!" Alice chirruped, the awkwardness of the past conversation fading, at least for her. "It is not often I get to meet new people, and I sense your heart is good, something that is exceedingly rare in this world. You would be good company indeed."

Isabella chewed on her bottom lip, trying to reconcile what Alice had slandered about her compared to the statement about her good heart. Alice seemed to be honest, and Isabella had no reason not to believe her. She was refreshing and blunt compared to the games and lies all the other gods seemed to sow. Perhaps, Isabella thought, it was possible to put the past behind them and start fresh.

"I would love to be your friend, Alice."

Alice beamed up at Isabella like a child who had just been handed a shiny new toy. And perhaps, in Alice's eyes, Isabella was a shiny new toy. But Alice was more than a friend to Isabella. Alice was protection. Alice was insurance. Alice would keep her alive if Edward could not recover, and it was far past time Isabella started looking after herself.

* * *

Later that night, when Isabella was brushing her hair as she readied for bed, The River God came to see her.

He stood in the doorway, golden eyes conveying no judgement or contempt. He simply watched as she took a comb through her dark curls, hypnotized by the notion. It was strange to say the least.

"Why are you here?" Isabella asked, turning to her husband. It was not often that he approached her, and since they could not touch with the most intense pain, there was no reason to seek each other out.

"You were gone the whole day. I wanted to make sure that Rose had not fed you to the creatures as she so conveyed at the banquet."

"No, I had Alice to protect me. I believe she despises Rose more than Rose does me," Isabella replied, gazing at Edward curiously now. The expression on his face was almost...soft. "I did not know you cared, My Lord."

"I always care, Isabella," he sighed.

Then, he tried to step forward, and stumbled in the process.

Immediately, without thinking, Isabella launched to her feet and rushed over to her husband. She steadied him with an arm looped under his, careful only to touch where his skin was not exposed. She did not wish to burn either of them as she maneuvered Edward to a sitting chair near the balcony. He felt like dead weight, far heavier than she had imagined. His muscles sagged as if they had been cut, and Isabella had to practically drag him into the seat, pulling him into an upright position. He groaned as he was jostled, and Isabella knew that this weakness had to have come from his wounds.

"How can you not see?" she murmured in melancholy as she reached to fix his robes, lifting the hem of the sleeve so that she could peek down to his chest. Lo and behold, she could see gold splotches staining the white bandages, ichor slowly oozing out of what were supposed to be healing cuts.

"Not see what?"

"That your empire is falling around you," Isabella said, arms gesturing to the once-grand space covered with hair-pin cracks and layers of dust. "And I do not just mean your palace falling into ruins, I mean _you_. I mean _all_ of the gods who claim to be so powerful and yet...you are wasting away like relics."

Edward heaved out a defeated sigh. From a distance, he seemed to wear all of his many thousand years on his face, looking so much older than Isabella thought possible.

"You do not think we know this?" Edward asked, no trace of patronizing or anger. He merely stared at her honestly, an exhaustion in his eyes that had nothing to do with his physical wounds. "The first and foremost power of any god is that of illusion. We are powerful because we believe ourselves to be, because the world and its creatures _need_ us to be, regardless of whether or not it is true. We hold ourselves together with our pride and our belief that things are exactly as they were a thousand years ago, and in response the world keeps turning."

"But how much longer can you live this way? How much longer can you pretend?"

"Not much longer, I am afraid," he said resignedly, leaning back in his chair, looking out into the horizon. "Every day, my father creeps further into atrophy. My brother cannot handle both domains and my sister is imbued with a vengeance that will consume her until the bitter end. The balance of power is skewed. War will be upon my own domain when I return, and should I perish in the battle, or from these damned wounds, the River will run wild and wreak havoc on the mortal world. Everything is falling apart, and it is my fault."

Edward looked so miserable, wallowing in self-loathing. And while Isabella thought that this was the penance he deserved after the terrible things he had done to her, it was not easy to witness.

"All this time we have been here and I have heard nothing but accusations of your guilt, of these stories that Rosalie and Alice mutter under their breath as you pass by. Every day I grow more confused and you grow weaker."

"Isabella..." he said wearily, annoyance creeping in his tone as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I may not be a god, but this world is my home now. This is my life too, and if something is going to happen to you, if you are so set in the idea of your own death, then you owe me the truth so that I can protect myself," she continued, not letting this go. "Let me help you, please."

"Help me?" he scoffed incredulously, looking upon her with pity. "You have already done enough. Had you not shown up on my shores, none of this would have happened."

"What has my role in your life done other than speed your inevitable decay?" Isabella challenged, proud of herself for leaving her husband stooped. "You said yourself: the gods are dying. That would have happened whether I arrived on your shores or not."

Abruptly, Edward rose from his seat and started walking out of the room.

"I have heard enough of this."

"Who is Irina?" Isabella called out behind him in a desperate bid to regain his attention, her voice echoing off of every wall.

Edward spun around and looked upon her with wide, surprised eyes. The name seemed to hit him in the heart like a dagger, the pain written in the frown lines around his mouth, in the way his breath stuttered for only a moment.

"Where did you learn that name?"

"Alice told me. She said you used to play the harp but have not since Irina died."

"Alice should learn to mind her tongue," Edward grumbled, more than likely thinking of ways to silence Alice in the future. "Her stories are as wild as the mountains she calls home. You cannot trust what comes from her mouth."

"Pardon the offense, My Lord, but the only words I cannot trust are your own," Isabella replied bluntly. The words hurt him, she could tell, but they were not without truth. At least honesty was a virtue she had acquired. "You are the only one who has given me reason to be wary."

Edward sealed his mouth shut, his lips pursed in a tight line hard enough to rival Jasper's infamous scowl. He looked pointedly in the other direction, and just like that, their relationship diverted back to the original cycle of disrespect and patronization. Isabella was so tired of this cycle. She was so tired of being pushed around and toyed with like a play thing. Just the previous night, Rosalie had called her a pet and no one had batted an eye. It was sad and frustrating that, even now, in her husband's eyes, she was not worthy of more attention and respect than a lap dog.

"Fine. Keep your secrets, remain in silence for all I care. It matters not," Isabella said with finality, not in the mood to argue. She felt weary and broken, tired of being constantly disappointed. "Just know that the longer we stay here, the closer I will come to uncovering the whole story. I am bound to piece the details together, and I can only pray that I find the true sequence of events, and not some distorted recounting. You have the chance, here and now, to set the stage. Whether you seize the opportunity or not is up to you."

"No matter what version of the story, Isabella, the ending is not a happy one," Edward said heavily, the look in his eyes apologetic, and by the tone of his voice, she could not tell if he meant the past or the present.

"Funny, from where I stand, I see no difference."


	22. The Weight of Knowing

The Weight of Knowing

Alice, Isabella had come to discover, was not a good friend.

She asked far too many personal questions, those large dark eyes peering into Isabella's soul, as if wrenching out the answers without permission. Alice was also far more fascinated with Isabella's humanity than with her personality. It were as if Isabella was a fish in a bowl, a pet to study and entertain when convenient. Her prying and callous manner were becoming too much to bear, and after a few days in Alice's company, Isabella found herself hiding in strange places just to escape the wild goddess, if only for a moment.

This time, her hiding took her to uncharted rooms in the palace. These looked older, less used, as if they had been closed away. Which made it all the more strange that music could be heard echoing softly down the corridors.

She followed the sound, curious. It led her to a open room filled with musical instruments, some familiar and others completely foreign. Big and small, fat and skinny, so many that there were too many for just one person. The ceiling was carved interestingly, flat edges and slopes amplifying the sound coming from the center of the room.

Surprisingly, it was Edward who was the source of the music. He was still weak, more ghostly than godly, but still he sat up straight and tall, pouring everything he had into the song.

Isabella remembered what she was told: Edward had not touched a musical instrument since the enigmatic Irina died.

Whatever compelled him to break his solemn vow was unknown, but he played as if no time had passed. The music pulled from the harp was compelling, perfect in pitch and vibrato. Isabella felt as though it were her heartstrings Edward was playing instead of the golden threads attached to the intricate instrument. The movements swelled in her chest, tugging her towards the source like some kind of siren song. Irresistible, unstoppable, likeness to the strong currents of the ocean, pulling her out into its depths.

Whispers in her ears supplied lyrics that Isabella knew were far too intimate and feminine to be muttered by Edward's lips. The Muses, they wove a story of woe and loss that Isabella could not quite discern from this distance. Pushing forward into the room, Isabella knew she needed to get closer, delve deeper beneath the surface.

Edward stood immediately, hands lashing out to stop her fingers from brushing the vibrating strings.

"NO!"

It was too late.

A glittering haze - not unlike the ones Jasper produced - covered her as the room was replaced, walls fading and swirling into similar ones.

She was in the Ocean God's palace, in the same entertaining hall, except it was completely different.

The room was alive, so very alive with music and dancing and raucous laughter. Golden light bathed the room from the flames of a thousand candelabras, projecting shadows across the room as the party lingered long into the night. This was how the room was supposed to be used. No cobwebs nor dust motes in sight, every piece of ornate furniture occupied by gods and creatures alike.

 _What a strange dream,_ Isabella mused, trying to reconcile this vision with the reality she had come to know.

She walked in circles, trying to catch the attention of anyone who passed, but to no avail. They passed right by her, looked right through her, as if she did not even exist. It was only when a man walked straight through her without even flinching, as if she were made of smoke and mist, that she realized that this was not reality at all, but some kind of illusion.

Her mind flickered to moments before, fingers flexing on instinct, trying to remember the feel of harp strings. Some kind of magic had taken her here. She recalled, faintly, the Muses, about how they blessed songs and poked truth through music. About how Edward had seen her memories of she and her father on the shore the last time she played. About how whatever song Edward had chosen had transported her into his memories now.

But this...this was something more than a memory. This was something real and tangible. This was as if someone had turned back time.

Laughter drew her attention elsewhere. A man stood upon a platform at the head of the room, sandy blond hair tousled effortlessly while golden eyes sparkled with mirth. Blue robes embroidered with sea silk fell from his chiseled physique, his smile infectious. A goblet full of wine was placed in one large hand, his other hand holding a three-pronged trident.

 _The Ocean God. Walking and talking and vibrant with life._

Esme was at his side looking far younger than Isabella had seen her before, lines of worry and stress nonexistent, her smile content as she tucked herself into the Ocean God's embrace.

Oh, how perfect they looked in their prime. How absolutely stunning and in love! Isabella envied them, but also felt immense sorrow. Esme had had this once; now it was taken away.

There was another man as well, this one standing in stark contrast to all the other partygoers. He was tall and pale as a ghost, his figure rail-thin and waif-like. Black robes draped over him like shadows, swallowing him and swirling at his feet so that it appeared as though he was gliding across the floor. Most startling of all, however, were his eyes: a bright, cruel red sunken into the sockets and framed by sharp cheekbones.

Isabella felt a chill as he passed, and knew who he was before his name passed the Ocean God's lips.

"Aro, what a pleasure you could attend," the Ocean God greeted, seemingly unafraid of the formidable primordial.

"Carlisle," Aro inclined his head the slightest degree, the only sign of respect he had shown any of the gods since his arrival. This led Isabella to believe that they were friends, which made no sense. Why would Aro curse his friend to a forever sleep?

"I see you have brought a companion," Carlisle noted, nodding towards the end of the hall where a young woman stood, tracing their steps.

She appeared to be enamored with everything, looking up at the splendor of the palace with child-like wonder.

"Irina," Aro called, his voice which had been so cold and unfeeling now laced with affection and warmth. The young woman smiled, lighting up the room with her infectious joy as she quickly stepped to join the elder deities.

"Yes, My Lord."

Her voice was high-pitched and melodic, far sweeter than any music. Carlisle seemed enamored by her, a smile playing at his lips. Aro seemed even more so enraptured, staring at her with possessive longing.

"My dear, this is the lord of these parts, The Ocean God."

Unsure of what to do, she bowed her head out of respect, dipping her head far lower than was necessary. "It is an honor, My Lord."

Carlisle seemed amused by her formalities, letting out a small laugh. Esme, too, seemed caught up in her innocence, letting out a laugh as she pulled her love in closer. Surely, as much as she trusted her love, no woman could feel safe in her lover's arms knowing that a creature such as Irina was around to ensnare any and all attention, purposefully or not.

"Aro, do tell me, where did you find such a lovely creature?"

"A stroke of fate, yet from the moment I saw her walking along the sound, I knew she was destined for more. I plucked her from her mortal life and made her one of us - Goddess of Everlasting Youth and Eternal Beauty," Aro said casually, as if such a thing were commonplace. He reached out, one bony finger glancing a stray curl from her forehead. "Such a face should live on forever, do you not agree?"

Beautiful was not enough to describe Irina.

Radiant. Iridescent. Transcendent. Golden eyes and golden curls and a blindingly white smile that never fell from rosy, cherubic cheeks. Her skin glowed as if she contained the summer sun within her being, shining light upon everything she touched.

"To the lovely Irina," Carlisle said, raising his glass in a toast with warmth as he smiled at the new goddess. "We welcome you."

Everyone else raised their goblets and drank as well, applauding lightly at the new addition to their world.

This pleased Aro immensely, his smile smug as he puffed his chest out with pride. Isabella had to wonder if the toast was all for show, to remain in Aro's good graces, or if Irina was truly welcome. However, the smile never wavered from Carlisle's friendly face, looking genuinely happy, making Isabella believe that he was as benevolent as Edward had once told her.

Speaking of Edward, he chose that moment to walk into view.

"My sons, where have you been?" Carlisle asked as he strode their way, looking amusedly between his two boys, knowing that they were up to no good especially when they looked out of breath and sweat streaked their brows.

"Emmett decided that he wished to prove himself at sparring, and naturally, I had to rise to the challenge."

Isabella was stunned at the difference between the Edward she knew and the Edward she saw now - so young and unburdened. The same arrogance and haughty importance remained, but there was something lighter and freer in his tone, no dark circles under his eyes nor cynicism in his gaze. Just pure unbridled happiness as he pulled Emmett under his arm even though his brother was larger, and ruffled his hair.

"This man is a cheater!" Emmett accused, writhing his way out of Edward's grasp, wrinkling both their water-stained robes in the tussle.

"Spare me, brother," Edward scoffed as he rolled his eyes playfully. "You are only sour because I bested you each time!"

"Piss off!" Emmett cursed, shoving Edward playfully, no heat between brothers.

Isabella felt her throat close. Oh, how different things were. How could they have changed so drastically?

Carlisle chuckled affectionately. "Now that you two have had your fill of sport, Lord Aro has brought someone important I would like you to meet."

The brothers paced a few steps behind their father, letting him lead them to the golden-haired guest of honor.

"No doubt another one of his trophies," Emmett scoffed so that only Edward could hear, both stifling their laughs as they rolled their eyes. "He collects so many it is a marvel his palace is not overflowing."

"I wonder if Sulpicia approves of this one," Edward replied, earning a smirk from Emmett.

Catching onto the banter, and nearing Aro, The Ocean God turned to shoot his sons a cautionary look. Their laughter died as they pulled themselves into formality. The last thing anyone wanted was to displease Aro, who was standing closely at Irina's side as she bounced on her toes, eager and nervous to meet more deities.

"Lady Irina, allow me to introduce you to my sons: Emmett, my youngest, the God of Ocean Beasts, and Edward, my eldest, God of the Great River."

"A pleasure," she said with another exaggerated bow, not quite up to par with proper etiquette.

It was then, when the crown of her perfectly blonde head rose and her eyes lifted to Edward's did the room start to shift. Vision tunneled, walls blurred, faces spun out of focus. Everything was blurry and insignificant. The whole world fell away, leaving nothing except Irina.

It was as if something had fallen into place, as if two pieces of a whole had clicked together. Two stars in orbit around a central sun. Never had Isabella felt a pull as strong as the one between those two, their hearts creating invisible strings connecting them. One moment, and Isabella felt in her bones what Edward had felt upon that first look.

Love. Unbreakable, complete, and irrevocable love.

"Edward, now that you are here, would you do us the pleasure of gracing us with a song?" Carlisle requested, a hand placed on his son's shoulder, shaking him out of the daze.

He blinked rapidly, all eyes focused on him. The most shrewd of all was Aro, whose red irises had narrowed in suspicion. He was the possessive sort, Isabella could tell, and while he wanted to show off his new prized possession, the look was clear that too much admiration would not be taken well.

"Oh, you must! I have heard you have a true gift for music," Irina encouraged, her smile lighting up his soul. Isabella could feel the warmth in her toes, her entire body buzzing with the blossoming buds of first love.

"If the lady insists."

The cordial answer was met with a round of polite applause. As Edward moved towards the instrument, the crowd moved with him. Irina would have been the first at his heels had Aro's pale hands not come to wrap around her arms, holding her back to him.

Sitting down at a harp not unlike the one he played now, his fingers plucked at the strings, but Isabella could not hear the music.

Instead, the frame shifted, the walls blurring once more with the glittering haze. This time, they changed entirely. No more walls at all; Isabella was faced with the clear blue sky touching vibrant green tree tops. A breeze rippled through the glen, soft grass tickling as it rose up to her knees, flowers of all colors rising towards the sun.

And there, in the middle of this idyllic scene, was Irina, spinning circles in the wide open space, with Edward standing across the way, laughing at her. His head was tipped back, bronze locks glowing in the sun, rays illuminating pale skin, giving off the illusion that he was sparkling. And perhaps, basking in Irina's halo, he truly could shine like diamonds. She seemed to make everything shiny and perfect and new.

"Where have you brought me?" Irina asked, a pure giggle escaping from her lips. "You must have me back by sundown or Aro will know."

Edward merely stood back and admired the view, eyes never once starting from the golden young woman dancing on her own, white robes billowing around her like clouds. "This is worth the risk."

Irina only smiled wider and extended one hand out for Edward to take, which he did without hesitation. They interlaced their fingers, Edward bringing their hands up to place a kiss on her knuckles, before spinning her outward once more. When he pulled her back in, she shrieked with joy, golden curls spilling over her shoulders as she careened into his chest.

"Where are we, Edward?" she asked again, tone soothing and light. She was not concerned with this strange place - no, it was idyllic just like she. It was more out of curiosity than anything.

"Do you not recognize it? This is our new home."

"Home?" she echoed, confused as her bottom lip came out to pout.

His hands extended into the distance, as if seeing something she could not.

"I shall build you a palace right where we stand, one greater and grander than any other before it," he said, the promise of such a gift lighting awe in Irina's eyes. "You shall have grand marble stairways and fountains and rose gardens by the dozens."

She turned to face the distance, imagining such a place. The sigh that escaped her lips was full of longing, her hands reaching to clutch at her heart. However, instead of ecstatic joy, there was melancholy lacing her expression.

"That sounds like a dream...but who would live in it? You are bound to the river, and I am bound to my master."

"A hundred years, Irina," Edward said, pulling the goddess close to his chest so that he could wind his arms around her, hands reaching up to frame those delicate cheekbones. "I have loved you in the shadows for a hundred years. Silently, waiting, watching, and I can take it no more. I want to shout my love from every tower, to every dryad and naiad and aura who will listen. I would take on your master if it meant getting to touch you as a please, to kiss you as I please."

As if to prove a point, Edward leaned down to kiss Irina, hand still possessively curled around her face, trailing down to her neck to the base of her throat. They were so caught up in each other, entangled limbs and small noises of pleasure.

The kiss was almost too much for Isabella to witness, averting her gaze as not to interrupt such an intimate scene. Another part of Isabella was strangely jealous of Irina. Not so long ago, Isabella had yearned to have what the goddess had: the love and attention of such a man. Isabella was jealous that Irina had gotten to know this side of Edward, this lighter, freer side. Perhaps if she had not stolen his heart, there would be more of such a man around instead of the spoiled, angry shell Isabella was left to deal with.

It felt like ages when they finally parted, bodies swaying alongside the grass in the gentle breeze.

"All this for me?" her eyes were shining like stars, absolutely awestruck and drunk with bliss.

"All this and more," Edward promised, sealing it with a kiss. "To hell with Aro. To hell with him."

The sun chose this moment to flare, glaring in Isabella's eyes, distorting the view. The sheen of glitter had returned, the blue skies warping and twisting, pushing Isabella into a whole new set of pictures.

Images flashed in no particular order. Nights and days spent much like this one, of Edward and Irina in each other's arms, growing bolder with their displays of affection. So much laughter and joy, so many parties and nights spent in each other's company. And all the while, unnoticed by them, Isabella watched Aro's face grow more skeptical, critical, lines furrowing places as he pieced together this illicit puzzle. His eyes grew darker, angrier. There was a storm brewing in the distance, a darkness encroaching upon their safe haven.

When the slideshow ceased and the world stopped spinning, the first thing Isabella could make out was the distinct sound of metal clashing against metal. Short, distinctive taps that indicated a fight followed by polite applause. As the vision came into focus, Isabella could see two men standing in the middle of a platform, engaged in swordplay. It was for sport, if the small crowd gathered around them was anything to go by, various gods and creatures talking amongst themselves, eating, drinking, and laughing while enjoying the show.

Aro was there, sitting on a throne as opulent as he was, surrounded by various other gods Isabella could only assume were of his own making due to the fact that they clung to him and only him. Carlisle was engaged in conversation with both he and Esme, unbothered by the swarm of newcomers. For the first time, Isabella spotted Rose, far happier than the sour woman had ever presented herself before, their body language friendly. She conversed with Irina on the side of the court, Irina sneaking not so subtle glances at the fight.

Of the two figures in the makeshift arena, it was the smaller who was the better fighter, much more nimble on their feet than their larger, much more muscular counterpart. Where the bigger warrior made for broad, heavy strokes, the smaller one dodged with easy, parrying and striking in the spots left vulnerable from overexertion. It did not take long for the man to get his opponent to yield, lying on his back with a sword hovering just above his breastbone.

The winner stepped back, pulling off his plumed helmet to reveal a familiar face.

"Ha! Bested you again!"

"I swear by the river you serve that you, Edward, are a cheat," Emmett insisted, wiping his brow of sweat as he accepted his brother's hand up off the ground. "I am twice your size and yet, you manage to defeat me. This should be an easy victory."

"There is no such thing as an easy victory, brother," Edward reminded him, dabbing his own forehead with a cloth as he caught his breath. "Besides, not all battles can be won by brute force and a sharp sword. Sometimes, you actually have to think your way out of things."

"And I take this moral to mean that you think I have no brains?"

"You are the one who said it, not I."

Emmett merely shook his head and ruffled Edward's hair, the sparring match forgotten.

"Another match, I insist," Aro commanded, clapping his hands expectantly. "I grow tired of the same spectacle. Surely, someone here must be strong enough to best the River God. My dear Irina, perhaps?"

Everyone looked perplexed, but none more than Irina herself. She looked up at Aro as if he had suggested something insane.

"But, My Lord, I have never even held a sword before."

"Oh but I insist, my love," Aro pressed, encouraging the young goddess to step forward as tribute. She seemed skittish, the first inklings of uncertainty skating across her cherubic face. Aro must have sensed such unease, as he pouted a bit, turning to her competitor. "I trust you will go easy on her, Edward?"

"As easy as I can, though I make no promises to throw a fight merely because my opponent is unskilled."

Aro hummed and nodded, satisfied. He then turned back towards Irina, taking her hands in his. "Are those acceptable odds, Irina?"

She glanced over towards Edward, to his easy stance and lopsided smile, looking at her as if she were the most perfect being in existence, and Isabella saw the panic ease from her gaze. Edward would not hurt her, of that she seemed certain.

"More than fair, my lord."

Edward helped Irina pick a shield and the necessary armor. Even though they were gods and these weapons could bounce off their skins as gently as the breeze, the proper equipment was key for a fair fight. Aro watched them with shrewd eyes, missing none of the gentle touches and shy smiles. Isabella wanted to scream to warn them, tell them that they were not safe from his judgement, but her voice would not work. She was a spectator in the crowd.

"One moment," Aro stalled, getting up from his perch upon the dais. "I have a gift for you, my love. In honor of your first match."

From the depths of his inky robes, Aro brandished a gleaming, golden weapon.

The sword.

It was as intricate and impressive then as it was now. None seemed to bat an eye at its power. None seemed to know the danger it posed. In fact, many longing glances were sent Aro's way as he stepped down from his throne to present the weapon to Irina. He held it out with both palms, waiting patiently as she lifted the sword and tested its weight in her grip.

"Oh, it is splendid," Irina gasped as she admired the craftsmanship, metal gleaming in the sunlight, catching the bejeweled hilt in a myriad of colors.

"Come now, how is that fair?" Edward asked in mock exasperation as he waved his simple sword in the air, smile never leaving his face so long as he stared at Irina. She only gave him the most cursory of teasing smirks, as if knowing her victory would be a swift one.

"What was it you just told Emmett? Mind over matter?"

Aro came up behind her, arms wrapped possessively around her shoulders as he guided her to the proper position, his voice a sinister whisper in her ear.

"Pierce through the ribs, straight to the heart, is the swiftest route to victory."

With that, Aro left the stage, and the match commenced.

Edward was going easy on Irina, even though he said he would not. Isabella was not surprised, nor was anyone else for that matter. No one wanted to cause any damaged to Aro's favorite treasure. It was best to let her get in a few fair swipes, the blade glancing far too close to Edward's skin for Isabella's liking. All it would take was a nick of skin, an the true power of the sword, along with Aro's intentions, would be revealed. Aro seemed to know this, on the edge of his seat the entire time, watching every strike with rapt attention.

A surprisingly easy blow had Edward's sword flying from his hand and lying on his back.

"Do you yield?" she asked flirtatiously, exuding joy at her victory. However, her sword was angled right where Aro had instructed: through the ribs near the heart. Isabella felt her pulse beating in her throat. Even though she knew Edward was still alive to tell this tale today, it did not ease her nerves.

"So confident, my lady?" Edward replied, arching an eyebrow.

In the next moment, he had rolled out of her bind without so much as a scratch, stealing her weapon for himself. The crowd gasped and applauded, all except Aro who frowned.

Isabella sucked in a sharp breath.

Knowing what was to come and watching it happen were two entirely different things. She knew that the sword would not bounce off Irina's chest. She knew that it would slice through that golden skin as if it were butter, soft and pliant under its unforgiving edges. She knew these things, and yet, as it happened and Irina's eyes went wide as saucers as the joy of sport was replaced with the undeniable pain and fear of death, Isabella felt stomach roll and her eyes burn.

She wished she could stop this, could stop the confused screams and cries for help. Could stop the ichor rushing from the wound as the sword was thrown away, staining Irina's white robes, soaking them through. Could stop Irina's collapse to the ground, falling lifelessly into Edward's arms.

"Irina!" Edward cried, holding her lifeless form in his arms, shaking her as if it would wake her from eternal rest. His golden eyes were flooded with tears, narrowed both in accusation and anguish. "What kind of cruel ruse is this?"

His words were aimed at the primordial who was seething with hatred from his dias, black clouds rolling overhead as his rage grew.

"You killed her!"

"No...that is not possible..."

Edward was at a loss for words, staring helplessly at the scene. It was not possible to kill a god; Edward believed that down to his core. He believed that for his entire existence. But now...now Irina was still bleeding from her wound, ichor running like small rivers into larger lakes around where they laid, and she was not waking up. Her body was cold and her gentle heart had yet to beat, soft bosom yet to rise.

The sword, once used for sport, now held much more sinister a purpose.

"The sword...you gave it to her..." Edward trailed off, staring at the ichor-soaked tool as if it would come to life and slice his head clean off. Then more pieces fell into place, the true extent of this tragedy making itself known. Edward looked up at Aro in abject horror. "You wanted her to kill me instead."

"YOU KILLED HER!" Aro roared again, drowning out Edward's revelation, thunder booming with each word.

Lesser deities cowered. Some disappeared into puffs of smoke or mist, running far away from the punishment about to be delivered for this grievous sin. Even Aro's other prized trophies backed away knowingly, not wishing to interfere with their master's retribution. Aro towered over Edward, robes flaring like ominous dark clouds ready to swallow him whole.

"You stole her from me in life and now you have stolen her from me in death!" he accused, Edward flinching back from the verbal assault, Irina's body still limp against him. "Let us see how easily you love when there is no heart left inside your chest!"

"Peace, Aro," Carlisle tried to soothe, not willing to start a war in his domain. "A terrible tragedy has happened, yes, but both sides could find fault. Perhaps a compromise can be made - "

"I will have none of your peace, Carlisle," Aro spat, glaring at the Ocean God as if he had the nerve to approach him. Carlisle knew he was unwelcome, and backed away slowly, not wanting to incur any more of the primordial's anger. "This impudent wretch deserves to die for the injustices he has committed against me."

Aro raised his hand, and Isabella wanted to look away. She wanted to avert her eyes from what terrible thing was to happen next, but she was transfixed. Time moved so much slower as Aro lowered his hand, plunging it deeply into Edward's chest.

The scream that wrenched from his lips was guttural, his body curling in on itself as Aro robbed him of his heart. Isabella flinched, lip quivering as she covered her ears to block out the screams, the cries for mercy from Edward's family. Someone was holding Emmett back; Rose was crying silently, unable to look away just like Isabella.

Finally, when Aro stepped back, he had a golden organ in his hand. Edward's heart was blackening near the center, no doubt the part of him that had lost Irina. Now, he was partly collapsed over the body of his dead love, shaking with such a force it was a miracle he could hold himself up at all. Isabella was also morbidly fascinated with how Edward was still alive without his heart, how he was still able to breathe, still able to gasp and cry and make pathetic movements from where he cowered at Aro's feet.

Aro did not seem satisfied with this show of brutality. No, he circled Edward like a vulture, eyes envisioning him dead a thousand different ways, each one more painful than the next. His fingers created a vice-like clamp around the heart, squeezing to choke the life out. Edward's back bowed as he grasped frantically at his chest, the pain immense and unwavering. Aro's grip only became tighter as the minutes passed, and Edward was reduced to a writhing mess, begging for an end to the torture.

It was Carlisle that stepped forward, falling on his knees in front of the primordial.

"Please, I beg of you, spare my son."

Aro looked down at the scene, rage still present in his gaze, but something else taking its place. Perhaps it was satisfaction at laying the Ocean God so low. Perhaps it was the spark of opportunity. Whatever it was, he cast a scathing glance towards Edward before loosening his grip on his heart.

"Very well," Aro sneered, though he lost none of his venomous hatred. "On the friendship we once shared I shall honor your request, though I must know what shall I receive in return for such a kindness?"

Carlisle seemed to wither at the phrase, his face pale and drawn, no doubt knowing what was to come. He got back to his feet, gesturing towards the palace. "Come, and converse with me in private. We have much to discuss."

Aro did not return Edward's heart, instead tucking it into the depths of his robes as if for safe keeping. Then, the two turned their backs on the pathetic scene.

The music changed at this time as well, Isabella's vision spinning in that familiar way that signaled another memory. Her own heart was beating out of her chest, the intensity of all that had happened coursing through her at full speed. It was almost too much to process, but Isabella knew that this story was not over, not yet.

The hallways morphed into the familiar ones of the Ocean God's palace, though everything seemed dismal and grey. The atmosphere was colder. A storm loomed out on the horizon, Esme's waves turning and crashing in at a violent rate.

Through the shadows of the hall, Isabella could make out a figure leaning against a pillar, head hung in defeat, an aura of devastation clinging to his gold-stained robes.

Edward.

Even though she was not truly there, Isabella felt awkward witnessing this level of raw grief. His pallor was that of milk, his muscles tensed, every sinew of his body on edge, ready to snap. His body was trembling, shoulders hunched over as he tried to stifle sobs that were as quiet as whispers. Isabella pitied him.

Another figure, this one slower-moving but just as somber, joined the picture a few moments later. Edward raised his head, golden eyes rimmed in red, as he awaited for what this man had to say.

"Do you have any idea what your foolish heart has cost?" Carlisle asked, the lines on forehead deeper, his blue eyes harder. Edward hung his head again, shouldering all the blame, letting the words weigh him down and drown his soul. "The balance of power has been upset. Aro would have called for your life to rectify it, but I proposed an alternative solution...my own."

Edward's head shot up, eyes wide and startled and awash with fresh guilt.

"I did not ask - "

"No, and yet, I still had to give," Carlisle replied heavily, a hand on Edward's shoulder. "Until you can find a way to appease Aro and win back your heart, I must sleep. That is what we agreed upon."

"Father - "

"From this day forth, you are hereby banished from any oceanic domain on pain of death and violation of the terms of the treaty."

"Father! You cannot do this! I have already lost so much - "

"It is not up to me," Carlisle said tiredly, looking just as broken as Edward felt. Just the raw pain on the both of their faces was enough to bring Isabella to tears. "You brought this on yourself, Edward. I can only hope that time has mercy on your soul, just as I hope that it has mercy on mine."

The vision faded, the memories finally run out as they reached the end of the journey. Reality snapped back into focus, the glittering haze wearing off completely. The sun had started to set since she had gotten lost in the past, casting long shadows across greying walls. Compared to the past, the present looked grey, devoid of life, devoid of everything.

Irina had died and taken everything bold and bright and beautiful with her.

"Was that the truth you were looking for?" Edward asked miserably, like he'd had his soul ripped right out of him for the second time. She could not bear to look at him, not with the weight of what she now knew.

Isabella kept her mouth shut.

For once, she had nothing to say.


	23. The Forbidden Fruit

A/N: To answer a few questions in the reviews: No, Isabella is not Irina incarnate; she is very much her own person. Yes, Isabella is in way over her head, but she always has been. Her place in the story has, for the time being, been the accidental victim. She doesn't play much of a "role" other than to cause trouble and upset everyone's way of life (which is why I know a lot of you hate her). But I promise you, she does have an actual place in the story other than to mess things up, something you will see at the end. As for why she and Edward can't touch...you'll find that out in this chapter. I'm divulging all the secrets now.

Also, random, but I put a poll up regarding the outcome of this story on my page that I would really like you guys to go vote on! It's entirely for fun and to satisfy my curiosity, and will have no impact on how the story goes whatsoever, but I would appreciate participation regardless. Pretty please?

Lots of love! XOXOX

* * *

The Forbidden Fruit

"Perhaps it was the secrets that were causing your decline."

Isabella had been having more and more of these thoughts as the days went on. It had been awkward at first, relearning how to navigate her irritable husband, but after the initial hesitation, she found that it was actually easier to talk to him about things now that she felt like the barrier of secrets had been knocked down.

"Perhaps..." Edward replied, reluctant to entertain the idea that Isabella may be right about something. He sat up with only mild wincing, holding onto his ribs. Isabella feared he was going to try to stand up and walk away, but he remained put, looking out into the horizon decidedly. "We shall leave as soon as I am at full strength. I do not wish to be here any longer than necessary."

Isabella nodded shortly, having no qualms with that decision. "Something we can both agree on."

She went back to wrapping his ribs with strips of linen, careful not to accidentally brush her fingers against his skin as she wound the cloth tightly in circles. Their contact had been getting progressively worse. Before, it was manageable - mere shocks, jolts, and pinches, enough to be unpleasant but not unbearable. Now, their contact caused immense pain at even the briefest of glances.

The bandaging was mostly for precaution now, to hold the healing skin in place. He had stopped bleeding for the most part, only the tiniest flecks of golding coming off on the previous wrappings. When it came time to tie off the final piece, Isabella circled around to the front of her husband, knotting the tapered edges together and tucking the knot underneath so that it would not be moved.

"Curious..." Isabella mused, her hand laying flat against the bound skin of his breast still warm through the cloth, holding it there as she felt a distinct pattern of thuds. "You have a heartbeat. I thought I had felt it before, and I can feel it now..."

"What you feel is an echo of what is no longer there," Edward explained, reaching up to remove her hands, the contact equivalent to letting flames lick up their wrists. It shocked Isabella, pulling a gasp through her teeth as she backed a few steps away, rubbing at invisible burns. "A god will keep living despite what they lack."

"If that is true, how could a sword kill?" she bit out, reaching down into the water basin to soothe the ache in her wrist.

"That sword is made of power that Aro stole, a compilation of forces far older and more potent than the gods and primordials combined. It is a corruption of all we stand for, an aberration," Edward glared at it, cursing its existence in all the ways he knew how. "A reminder of my failures, forced to live with me for the rest of my days. I have no delusions Aro is wishing, one day, that I will give up and turn the blade upon myself. I will not lie and say that I have not come close."

"Then why not end things?"

Isabella could not help but ask, some morbid curiosity driving her to learn more. She had only just scratched the surface, soaking in all she could as her skin soaked in the sun. This truth could weather her - would weather her - just as the sun had browned her skin, made it leathery and hard. But it was better to know than live a life of frustrating ignorance.

"I will not give him the satisfaction," Edward replied, his gaze darkening. "I may have committed the act, but Aro is the reason Irina is dead, and he is the reason we are all suffering. He and his vendetta against me."

"You simply need to win back your heart, and all this suffering will end."

" _Simply_ ," Edward mocked, lips twisting into a scowl. "If it were simple, I would have already done so. For me to win back my heart, I must find someone who will love me as I am: without a heart. It was why I struck a deal with your village, why I requested the brides. I was so hopeful then, but time soon showed me that no matter how many women I brought here, no matter how hard I tried to love without the means to, that nothing would work. Aro would still find a way to destroy them, and I would be left to bury their bodies and start anew."

"Perhaps things may not have worked this time, but in the next - "

"There is no next time. The village is gone now, Isabella, and after the chaos you've caused, I doubt Aro will be willing to offer an alternative," Edward said miserably, though there was no malice to his gaze when those golden eyes fell upon her. Instead, there was only a broken longing, like he was staring at a dream he would never be able to grasp. "You were my last and only hope."

"And yet, you still look so somber."

"Can you blame me? I harbor no illusions about our relationship, if that can even be used to describe what binds us, and how it will end," Edward said ruefully, resigned to his fate. "You can barely stomach the sight of me, and rightfully so. Those things I did, they are unforgivable, which is why I did them. What I did, I did not knowing what was to come."

"Are you saying that, had you known that things would be as they are now, you would not have treated me as you had?"

"Had I known that the village would be destroyed, all hope lost, and no others were to come, I would have done things differently, yes," Edward admitted. "I would not have squandered another life, another chance, _your chance_ , out of bitterness."

Wonder and confusion were two things that Isabella was used to feeling by now. With each little insight into her husband's mind, more and more made sense, and yet nothing made sense at all. She wondered, even if she knew everything Edward had to offer, if she could ever truly understand him. Where there was once only raging hatred, there was a sadness that had been growing since learning of Irina. And while she could not truly care for her husband, and she feared she never would, at least not now, she did not only feel repulsion. No, now she looked at him and felt pity. Pity and a longing for the lives they both could have led.

"What a tragedy we are," she said solemnly.

Edward only hummed in agreement, his eyes fixed on the horizon.

"A tragedy indeed."

* * *

Every afternoon, Isabella walked along the beach with Alice.

It had become something of a routine, a constant in her ever-changing world. Alice would be waiting by the steps of the palace, and they would begin their walk, toeing the strip where the sea met the sandy shore. Alice would talk for ages about things that made no sense, topics that had no business being placed together, and Isabella would nod respectfully every few sentences even if the conversation had long left her grasp of understanding. It was a comfortable experience, something Isabella neither liked nor disliked.

However, the more Isabella learned, the less enigmatic Alice became, her babbling less infuriating and full of riddles. The pictures became clearer, the stories fuller, and the disjointed mess of random topics picked up common threads. Isabella could not tell if Alice liked or disliked her newfound insight. She assumed that Alice liked playing games with mortal minds, toying with her upper hand status like a cat played with a mouse, and had come to the conclusion that Alice saw her as more a pet than a friend. Pets were only acceptably adorable when they were ignorant. A pet that spoke back, that asked too many questions, was a pet that was not worth the hassle.

Isabella only hoped that Alice was a more patient mistress than her stony-faced lover who walked beside them. It was a surprise that he showed up this day, as he normally hated socializing, and socializing with mortal outsiders even more so. While he never spoke a word, Jasper gave Isabella chills that could not be shaken. She wondered if he did that on purpose or if it was just an unfortunate side effect of his character.

"How is he today?" Alice asked offhandedly, kicking up a clump of wet sand where it landed into the shallows with a heavy _thunk_.

"Better," Isabella replied cordially, tucking her stray hairs behind her ears so that the wind did not whisk them around her face. "He grows stronger each morning. I believe in a week's time we will be able go on our way."

"That is good news indeed," Alice hummed, though her focus was still on kicking up sand. "Not your departure, of course; I fear I shall miss our chats terribly. But it is good that the River God is on the mend, is it not, my love?"

"Good news indeed," Jasper agreed, his voice devoid of any emotion. It satisfied Alice, though, who was not even paying him attention.

"Where shall you go upon departure?" Alice asked, ever the curious one.

"I am not sure. We have not planned further than one day at a time," Isabella confessed. The uncertainty of their joined futures had been causing her an enormous amount of stress as of late. Isabella had hoped, now that Edward was on the mend, he would be more forthcoming with travel plans. However, he was just as elusive as before, always stating that they needed to leave but never specifying a destination. "My lord is still weak. I do not think that he is focused on anything past returning to full health."

"His palace was destroyed in the battle, was it not?" Alice pressed, knowing the answer full well. She just liked to hear people confirm terrible things. It gave her a perverse sense of pleasure. "What a pity. It was such a lovely palace, if not dreary and devoid of warmth."

"Yes, a pity."

Isabella did not dare to say more. Such words were meant as provocation. Alice did that at times - say jarring things to gauge Isabella's reaction. Isabella had thought it poor manners at first until she realized what Alice was doing: learning human emotion. It was such a strange, unsettling thing to realize, that it made Isabella more determined not to show any sort of reaction at all, which only inspired Alice to accelerate her attempts.

"I wonder if he will take you to the Rose Palace," Alice mused, tapping on her chin mischievously as she raked those dark eyes up Isabella from head to toe. "Yes, that might suit a woman of your...predicament."

Isabella could hardly register the name 'Rose Palace' because she had latched onto the last statement. "My predicament?"

"Quite a delicate one at that," Alice commented unhelpfully, dancing around Jasper as if to distance herself from the trouble she had just caused.

"Alice, it is not kind to play games," Isabella tried to say evenly. If the wayward goddess knew something about her own health that Isabella was not privy to, then it was cruel to keep it a secret. And she was oh so tired of secrets.

"It appears I am not the one who plays games, dear Isabella. It seems as though someone has partaken in the forbidden fruit," Alice said cryptically, far too amused and eyes far too mischievous for Isabella's liking.

"What the hell are you going on about?"

Isabella barely had time to regret her disrespectful tone and choice of words before Alice had tossed her head back and started giggling uncontrollably. Even the austere Jasper had cracked the most disconcerting of grins, as if he were mocking her.

"The fruit of the womb, my dear," Alice explained, her simperingly sweet smile anything but comforting. Her pale hand reached out and pressed a palm against the blue of Isabella's robes, rubbing the area in small circles.

Sickness overwhelmed Isabella suddenly and violently.

 _No, there is no truth to what the devious sprite says!_ Isabella told herself, desperate in her bid to clamor onto her last shred of independence.

But deep down, in the depths of her shattering soul, Isabella knew what Alice was saying to be true. She could feel it in her bones, like some kind of ancient magic. Something had not been right with her, not for a long time. Now, her affliction had a source.

A child.

* * *

Isabella went to Edward that evening.

There was no use in hiding her condition; in a matter of months, weeks more likely, her secret would be obvious. Besides, she and Edward had just started to build a tentative trust, finding living together easier now that there was nothing to divide them. Hiding something so monumental would only destroy all the progress Isabella had fought so hard for.

She found him on his balcony, the sunset casting the most heavenly bronze halo around his russet hair. In this light, there was no mistaking that he was a god. It only made telling him that much more intimidating.

"I am with child. It is Jacob's."

There was no way the child could be Edward's. She had gone back and counted the days since her last bleed, compared it to the day she arrived, and knew that if this child was her husband's then she would have already started to show moons ago. Jacob was the last man she laid with, the last man she allowed to touch her. The way he moved in her, she knew that if she let him stay, they would run the risk of conceiving. At the time, it seemed worth it, a welcome outcome of the love they shared, but now...now everything was uncertain.

Isabella expected anger. She expected rage and storms and hellfire. She expected harsh words and insults to be volleyed her way, slurs against her character, accusations of how she could open her legs to a mangy dog like some wanton whore. She braced her sell for all of this and more. But instead, Edward remained impassive, thoughtful even. He mulled over the development, examining Isabella's form with calculating precision before a look of realization and understanding washed over him. Then, he looked down to his hands, flexing the tendons in his wrist, before letting out a long sigh.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Then I suppose that solves the mystery."

"What mystery?" Isabella asked, confused. She was still unsure of what this display meant, why she had yet to be cast out. If Edward had any sympathy at all, he would cast her out, quick and painless.

"The mystery of why we cannot touch," he said heavily, dragging one hand palm-first in front of her own, almost touching but not quite. Isabella could feel the energy there, pulsing between them, pushing them apart in warning. "I have broken my vow and touched without consent, but it seems as though you have broken your vow as well - your marriage vow, sworn on the river whose waters bind deeper than blood."

Realization ran cold through Isabella's veins. All this time, she had been condemning Edward for being the unfaithful and untrustworthy one, when she too forgot her role in this world. Her entire purpose was to be the River God's wife. That was her destiny, her fate since even before she was chosen. Somehow, in her bones she always knew that her path took her to Edward. But fate and destiny could not have predicted what was to come after she set foot upon this cursed short, could not have known the hardship and cruelty that would be shown to her. No mortal being could have stood for it, not without cracking and crumbling, leaving behind nothing but an empty shell.

That was the fate of the other wives, not Isabella.

She would not be guilted into regret for her choices. No, had she the choice to do things over, she would leave the River God's palace in an instant if it meant knowing the warmth of a loving touch and the compassion of a true smile. She did not regret Jacob. She did not regret her time with him, nor this child they unknowingly made. The only thing she regretted were the circumstances this child was conceived under. This child who would no doubt be hated every second of their lives simply due to from whom they were born.

Her hands nervously fluttered to her flat stomach.

"What is to come of me?"

"I do not know. Your situation is...unique..." Edward said pensively, studying Isabella closely, looking for any signs of this monumental change. "But you will not have to face this alone."

Isabella snapped her gaze up to her husband, completely taken aback. She was not expecting such a kind gesture, not from someone like him. Not from the man who hurt her, lied to her, and broke her spirit so many times before. The look in his eyes told her that he believed the same, something incredibly old and impossibly sad that worked its way into the half smile that graced his lips.

"I may be heartless, Isabella, but I am not a monster."

For the first time, Isabella believed him.


	24. The Rose Palace

A/N: Sorry for the long wait; I got hit with the writer's block and working on other projects did nothing to alleviate it. Always grateful for your patience. Poll is still up on my page, and I would very much appreciate your participation :) Thank you loves! XOXOX

* * *

The Rose Palace

The river rippled as the small boat carved a path through the waves, steady on its journey as it had been for countless hours.

Isabella did not remember the journey to the Ocean God's palace. As she was unconscious and full of terror, as well as the mystical properties of the edge of the world, it was hard to say just how long the journey took. The journey back, it seemed, would last forever. Isabella had fallen in and out of sleep half a dozen times, all to wake to a cramp in her leg and the endless span of blue. The River God did not seem fazed by this. His eyes remained steadfast on the horizon, staring intently as if any moment the fog would break and the shore would reveal itself. Besides, it was too late to turn back.

Edward had been itching to leave, jumping out of his sickbed as soon as his wounds faded to silvery scars, something that had not taken long after their long conversation. She had suggested they stay another few nights just to make sure, but he was adamant. They were to leave the Ocean God's domain, and so it was done.

Isabella recalled her goodbyes with her husband's extended family and friends. Esme had been the only one with genuine wishes for their safety and wellbeing, saying she would bless the waterways for a smooth passage. Rosalie had been all to eager to kick them to wind, Emmett torn between wishing his brother well and placating his sister wife. Alice had wrapped Isabella in her spindly arms far too tight to be considered friendly and whispered some nonsense about the mountains echoing. It was the usual haunting nonsense that Jasper entertained, not saying anything at all to the departing couple, instead watching with hungry, humorous eyes, as if he were privy to some kind of dark joke. Isabella was glad he kept that to himself, not needing the added stress that came with navigating the waters that swallowed her whole last time she sailed while currently with child - a fact that seemed to have spread like wildfire. From the time she told Edward to the time she stepped foot into the boat, everyone had wished her offspring well, offering blessing upon its birth for which Edward quickly and vehemently denied the need. She supposed that was for the best; blessings could so easily be disguised as curses, and a 'blessing' from Rosalie was one that she would happily forego.

Lost in thought, Isabella could not help but let her fingers skim the surface, the cool water rushing over her hand. Edward had told her not to disturb the creatures down below, but there was no sign of any life outside themselves. She was contemplating refilling her water skin when the boat shook. Isabella yanked her hand out of the water, afraid she had done something wrong.

"What was that?"

"We are close," Edward replied, steering the boat to the right. "We just crossed over the Veil. It is not long now."

 _Thank the heavens,_ Isabella thought as she tipped her head back, straining for a familiar sight. Now that she was focused, she could pick out a faint grey mass in the distance, getting bigger and longer the closer they got. It was the shore. She could have wept tears of joy.

"I should warn you, Isabella, that things are not likely to be the same as we left them," Edward said, his tone heavy to weigh just how serious the matter was. "Time, as you know, moves differently here than in my father's domain. I am not certain how long we have been gone, and that time will catch up with us."

"So you believe that conflicts will come back to haunt us?"

"Not conflict, though you do raise a good point, as I am not sure how our furry friends have coped with our absence," Edward said grimly as he was reminded of another problem he had likely blocked away. "I meant that the time will physically catch up, not with me, but with you."

"What does that mean?" Isabella asked, feeling herself begin to panic.

"Mostly, it means age. I do not expect you to transform into an old crone before my eyes, as not that much time has passed, but you may feel the time you cheated come back to you in waves of exhaustion from the weeks you slept contrasted with the weeks you stayed awake without rest," he explained, though Isabella felt that there was more coming, something he was avoiding.

"That is not all, is it?"

"No, I am afraid not," Edward sighed, moving to face her fully. "The time spent in my father's domain has stalled the growth of your child. I fear now that you have returned to a land where time flows more quickly, that this child's growth will also increase exponentially."

Isabella looked down at her abdomen, flat and soft as it had ever been, no notice of any life growing within. How strange it would be to watch her stomach grow, how startling it would be normally and now, sped up, even more so. She knew that life on this side of the river was always going to be strange, but this? This was something else entirely. However, it was not herself for whom Isabella found herself worrying, it was her child.

"Will the child be alright?"

Her hands fluttered above her stomach, stroking gently across her robes. Edward looked like he wanted to reach for that hand and hold it, but remembered that they could not touch, and flinched back.

"I cannot say what will and will not happen. As I have made clear before, your situation is unique, but whatever comes your way, I shall be prepared to handle it."

That was not particularly comforting, nor was it what Isabella wanted to hear. Even if it was a lie, she would have rather a definitive yes or no, at least to prepare herself if the worst was to come. It was bad enough that it had taken this long for her to just know her husband. To add a child into the mix, a child whose very existence was unexpected and new, was a terrible conundrum.

She could not focus on that now. She could only handle one problem at a time, and the current problem was making sure that she made it to land.

Edward turned back to navigating, bringing them in closer. Trees became clearer, the water much more choppy, as they neared land. Isabella did not dare say that the river fought them on their journey, but it was certainly being difficult. Edward had a hard time handling the boat, keeping them on a steady course. Whatever had transpired before they left, with the massive wave and storm, had yet to be resolved. While there was no grand claps of thunder and roaring monsoon to greet them, it was clear by the struggle that Edward and his domain had much to sort through. Isabella would have simply appreciated it if they could hash through those differences while she was not around instead of in the rocking boat that threatened to make her sick.

Then, as they were mere breaths from the shore, Edward took a turn and the churning stopped. The river grew calm, and that was because Edward had turned them down a narrower passage: a creek. The water was shallower, the stones still a far way down, but shallow enough that the light could reach them at the bottom. Fish swam alongside them, sucking at the moss that grew on the bottom of the boat. Willows hung low, brushing against their heads, secluding the area. If Isabella did not know where she was, she would say that the sight was magical.

"Here we are," Edward announced, pushing aside the low-hanging vines of a large willow to reveal their destination. "Isabella, may I introduce you to our new home, the - "

"- Rose Palace," Isabella finished for him, staring at the chateau atop the hill. It appeared to be more of a country home more than a grand palace, a quaint escape buried in a secluded glen - the very same glen that Isabella recognized from her vision of Irina. With a pang in her chest, Isabella realized that Edward had indeed made good on his promise and built Irina this as a testament to their love.

Edward fixed her with a curious look, his eyes narrowed. "Yes. How do you know of this place?"

"Alice mentioned it once before on our walks. I thought she was merely being cryptic."

Indeed, Alice had mentioned it before, but Isabella had been worrying about much more pressing matters - like the child growing within her - than another palace at the time.

"Yes, well you should know by now that Alice is not nearly as cryptic as she seems - just more meddling than anything."

"For once, we agree."

"And here I thought, she was your ally," Edward quipped wryly. Isabella did not dare give him the satisfaction of knowing that he was right: the Wanderers were not ones to be trusted, no matter how charming they could be.

Edward steered them towards the dock: a thin strip of worn wood with just enough space for them to disembark one at a time, Edward tying them to the shore before reaching down to help Isabella out. She walked on shaky legs up the rose-lined path towards the house. Upon closer inspection, it looked rather worse for wear, as if it had been abandoned. The roses had taken over, growing like weeds, bursting out of the gardens to terrorize the rest of the green grass, creeping up the facade of the palace so that it was nearly impossible to see the original stone. Isabella was not blind; she could see some of the roses moving, whole bushes making way and clearing a path towards the grand entrance.

 _Dryads,_ she thought. No matter where she went, she could not escape them. Though, they were far kinder than many of the creatures she had met thus far.

At the River God's touch, the large double doors opened, dust and debris falling out along with decaying vines from where they had been disturbed. Edward merely frowned and brushed off his robes.

"I shall have to have this taken care of," he grumbled, swatting at the dust that rose through the air like a milky film. "I cannot live in such filth."

Isabella wanted to ask why he had let this place get into such a state of disrepair, but she held her tongue. No doubt just being here was bringing back terrible memories for him, and the last thing she wanted was to add insult to injury. This was probably the first time he had set foot in this palace in many years. It was not her place to question his reasons. So, she stayed quiet and trailed behind him, taking in the sights.

The exterior looked far worse than the interior suggested. The palace needed a good dusting, but everything looked to be in working order. Despite the smaller scale, Isabella found herself actually liking what she saw. This palace felt warmer, less like a prison and more like a home.

"We shall be safe here, at least for a while," Edward said, his voice echoing down the haunted halls. "It is only a matter of time until Aro finds us, and if he does not, then the Shapeshifters will first."

"How long do we have?"

"Hard to say. His spies are everywhere," Edward replied, his brow furrowing darkly, as if he did not like the odds. As if sensing Isabella's unease, he tried to school his features back into something reassuring and strong. However, it only came off as unsettling. "Do not worry. I will not let anyone harm you, nor the child."

"I wish I could believe that."

Edward nodded, as if he wished he could believe it as well. Truth be told, neither of them knew what devastation Aro would bring with him, especially after being so thoroughly aggravated. And if Jacob were to find her in her state...there was no telling what he would do, how he would react. Would he be happy? Would a child be enough to smooth over Isabella's burned bridges? Or would he only find this a deceitful trick in attempts to further weaken him?

"The northernmost wing is yours to do as you please," Edward nodded curtly, gesturing towards the staircase. "My quarters reside in the eastern tower. If you need anything, the aurae will tend to you."

"Thank you, My Lord," Isabella said quietly, finding herself extremely grateful for this gesture. It hit her once more that Edward had been uncharacteristically kind towards her ever since discovering the pregnancy, and his actions spoke of nothing except a genuine compassion. He could have easily tossed her out and quite literally left her for the wolves, but he did not. There was still a remainder of her brain that wondered what nefarious, selfish reasons he had tucked away to keep her placated, but the majority of her being was exhausted and willing to accept his word at face value.

Edward's lips curled up in a quick, pained smile before he stepped away.

"Good evening, Isabella."

Then he disappeared around the corner, leaving his wife alone in a house she knew nothing about.

Isabella sighed, not surprised this was how they left things. He was always running, and it was foolish of her to think that the truth was enough for him to change. He would always keep his distance, and that was fine. Isabella needed hers as well. At least he had given her a direction to follow this time.

The northern wing was not hard to locate, as Edward was not lying when he said the entire thing was her own. As soon as she ascended the stairs, an open semicircular platform dotted with arches was open to her. Through one, she spied a sitting room, with instruments littered around the space. Through another, she saw a library with an ample amount of texts strewn about the tables, still half opened, as if forgotten. Through another - this one lined with lilac curtains - she saw the bedroom, and that was the one she chose to explore.

Slowly, she took a turn about the room, admiring her new living quarters.

They were not nearly as opulent and spacious as the other palace, but were by no means inferior. Though the ceilings were not as high, nor the room big enough to get lost in, it felt more intimate, the stone not a harsh white marble but a soft brown stone that bathed the space in a golden glow. Murals were painted upon the ceiling, resembling the daytime sky with fluffy clouds and the tops of verdant trees. There were pillars along the walls, connected to an intricate balcony. Vines of roses and other fragrant blooms wrapped around the fixtures, brushing against the gauzy white curtains, filling the room with color and life. The bed was more than large enough to fit her and three other people, the wooden headboard engraved with intricate pictures and scripts in a language she could not decipher. Through the archway, Isabella spied a large tub and wardrobe, no doubt full of more of the robes she'd come to begrudgingly love. There was also a decent sized sitting space, a dias filled with fruits, surrounded by fluffy cushions dotting the far corner.

 _That could easily be removed,_ Isabella thought as she stared at the space, trying to imagine something else entirely. _There is plenty of space for a cot, one made of the same rich wood as the bed to rock my child to sleep._

Somehow, that thought made everything that had happened in the last few days overwhelmingly real.

Lying down on the bed, Isabella closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to steady her racing heart. Her hands subconsciously found their way to her stomach...which was now sporting a subtle bump that was not there upon her arrival.

Isabella bolted back up out of bed, ran into the bathing room, and found the tall, gold-rimmed mirror she had spied before. Immediately she pulled her robes taut around her and turned to the side, studying her profile. Surely enough, there was the bump, just barely bulging from her previously-flat abdomen. Edward had told her that her body would catch up with her, that time would make up for what had been lost, but she had not expected things to progress this quickly. Not even a night on the mainland and Isabella was already showing signs of being with child? By this rate, she would be ready for birth within the upcoming weeks.

A gasp had Isabella spinning on her heel, coming face to face with the intruder: someone Isabella had hoped to never see again. Something that had all the blood rushing from her face, leaving her just as pale as the creature in her midst.

"I am sorry, My Lady, I did not mean to - I mean, I heard rumors but - seeing you in person...oh! Congratulations!"

Plia's rambling squeals were harsh in Isabella's ears, most unwelcome and upsetting. The aura had no right to barge into her personal space, to witness a private moment, and Isabella felt her face heating up, both with anger and crippling fear, as she had not forgotten what had come of their last encounter.

"W-why are you here?" Isabella demanded, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice and hands.

"I am here to serve you, My Lady," Plia replied happily, though Isabella could tell that she too was just as anxious, if not in the same way. Still, she managed that infuriatingly blinding smile, her bluish cheeks plump with dimples. "I thought you would be happy to see me."

"Happy?" Isabella repeated, dumbfoundedly. "How could you ever think I would be _happy_ to see you?"

Plia's smile fell, replaced by confusion. "M-my Lady?"

"You betrayed me," Isabella accused, feeling tears sting at her eyes at the memory of Plia abandoning her at her weakest moment, of choosing her husband's side despite knowing what he had done. "I trusted you and you gave him the whistle! You hunted me down, choked me, stole the air straight from my lungs!"

"No!" Plia cried, rushing forward only for Isabella to step backwards, not letting the spirit anywhere near her or her child. Plia maintained her distance, though she looked heartbroken to be so rebuffed. "No, My Lady! It was not like that, I swear it!"

"You could have killed me, and yet...all you did was stand by and watch..."

The aura looked down at the ground, ashamed. "There was nothing I could do...I could not stop my sisters, and even if I had the power, I could not disobey my master."

"So that is the excuse you hide behind? You are of the air itself and yet you fear a man made of flesh?"

"My Lady, I am truly sorry," Plia said, honesty and regret plain in those wide crystal eyes. "You are my friend and I did not want to hurt you."

"Yes, and I thought you were mine," Isabella replied harshly, standing her ground. She was far past the days of letting these creatures bully and use her. "It seems as though we were both mistaken."

If Plia had the ability to cry, she would have. Isabella had recognized the same look on her own face far too many times since coming to this side of the river. The only difference was now she had someone other than herself to stay strong for. She would not break, would not bend, and that meant cutting off the things that were no good for her in the first place.

"Leave."

The command lingered in the air for a moment, and the aura complied, dissolving into a cloud of smoke.


	25. The Memorial

A/N: Hello loves! Getting a lot of questions about the baby, so I'm gonna clear something up from previous chapters. In _The Laws of Nature_ , Emily said that only male Shapeshifters could create other Shapeshifters. This is because ANY WOMAN with ICHOR running through their veins cannot conceive children because shedding blood during a menstrual cycle is considered a "waste" of godly essence. Isabella has regular, mortal blood, which means that she can conceive children. Isabella's situation is unique is because there has never been a Shapeshifter pregnancy before; she is the first mortal woman to lie with one (Leah herself is a Shapeshifter - therefore infertile - and Emily was already turned into an immortal when she was intimate with Sam). Hope this clears things up!

* * *

The Memorial

Rustling woke Isabella early the next morning. She bolted upright in bed, startled by the presence of two unfamiliar creatures.

"Who are you?"

"Frisa, My Lady," the nearest aura swept into a graceful bow so that her wispy hairs tumbled over her shoulders, nose nearly scraping the ground. "This is Elia. We are your new attendants."

Out of habit, Isabella was about to ask what happened to Plia, until she remembered what had transpired the night before. Roughly, she swallowed and nodded, trying to ease herself with the thought that she did not know these aurae. They could have been innocent to the cyclone that nearly took her life. Guilty or not, Isabella was better off not knowing this one detail for her own sanity. If she kept on banishing aurae out of skepticism, there would be none left.

Leaving her new attendants be, Isabella got out of bed and shuffled over to the bath. Her stomach did not feel right, rolling and roiling as if she had spent a night at sea instead of wrapped in luxurious sheets on top of a downy mattress. As soon as she approached the basin, she heaved over and expelled all the contents of her stomach. Hot bile dribbled from her bottom lip as she purged whatever was left from dinner from her body. She thought that once the offending agent was gone, she would feel better, but the sickness only intensified.

Hands reached down to stroke over her queasy abdomen, only to rise over a bump. A very pronounced bump.

Isabella's heart stopped and she scrambled up to her feet to get to the mirror.

Her reflection stared back at her, face paled and covered in a sheen of sweat, dark eyes wide with terror as they focused in on her extended stomach. There would be no denying that she was with child now, the swell of her stomach pronounced under the blue robes. She barely had to pull on the fabric for it to be noticeable. Expert draping could disguise most of it, but soon she would not be able to conceal it at all. At this size, Isabella figured she appeared at least a few months along, and at this rate, she would be ready for the birth by the end of the next lunar cycle.

Sighing, Isabella sank down to the floor, unable to maintain the strength to keep herself upright. Everything was just so exhausting, her head pounding and the sickness swirling. The Elders and the other women from her village made bearing children seem like a blessing, something for which to aspire. Now that Isabella was in the thick of things, she could not help but feel lied to. Of course, those women were not carrying godly children in their wombs, nor did they suffer from magical time distortions.

"My Lady." Isabella looked up to find Elia staring blankly at her, those silvery aura eyes filled with a detached interest. "Are you quite alright? Would you like me to fetch a towel, or perhaps a glass of warm milk?"

The sound of drinking or eating anything was repulsive, and Isabella made a face at the suggestion. Elia deduced that to mean that Isabella indeed wanted the towel, and so the aura dissolved for a moment only to reappear with the cool cloth. She dabbed it gently on Isabella's warm skin, the feeling absolutely delightful in contrast to the hellfire that was her room.

Frisa appeared a moment later, surveying the scene before vanishing - no doubt off to tell the River God of the latest development in Isabella's condition.

In the meantime, Elia helped Isabella gently up off the floor, letting her mistress use her cloudy arm for support as they made their way back into the bedroom. Isabella was made to lie back down while the aura gathered new robes from the wardrobe. Her old ones were stripped efficiently from her body, thrown into a bin for washing. Isabella would not miss them if they were to be burned instead; the smell of sick was so hard to get out after all, and the last thing she wanted to be reminded of was this terrible nausea.

Her new robes were the same as the others, but for some reason, they were terribly uncomfortable. Everything was too hot and the usually soft fabric chafed against her sensitive skin, scratching against her tender breasts. If this was what her future had in store, Isabella did not want to be with child any longer. No, it was too much of a pain, too much of feeling like a stranger in her own body. After all she had suffered, Isabella at least thought she would maintain her sense of self, and now she was losing even that to the strange creature growing in her womb.

Isabella needed a distraction. Brushing her hair was a relaxing pastime. The long, sweeping motions gave her time to think about what she was going to do.

"Almost due for a trim," Elia commented, playing with the long strands. She was right, of course. Isabella had not had the time nor mind to upkeep her hair, choosing to throw it in braids or wear it loose. It nearly fell to her waist, dark locks littered with lighter shades of golden brown from the sun. "Would you like me to style it?"

Isabella nodded once, and Elia's ghostly hands went to work pulling the mass of hair back into something resembling a chignon. It felt nice to have fingers running through her hair, massaging her scalp. It helped with the thinking, and more accurately, the forgetting.

Scissors sat at the far end of her vanity, brass handles shining dully, tempting her. Isabella knotted the hair in a fist. She had the manic urge to cut it all off.

"I need fresh air!" she declared rather loudly considering that only Elia was in the room, and no more than a few paces from her at that.

Still, Isabella pushed herself away from the vanity and descended the stairs from her wing of the estate, Elia following a proper distance behind just in case Isabella found herself in need of something.

Once more, Isabella was astounded at the difference of this palace compared to the other. The warmer colors and softer stones made the Rose Palace alive in a way that those harsh marble walls and floors of The River God's palace never could. These halls had history; Isabella could feel it seeping into the air around her. It was a benevolent presence, if not a melancholy one. Still, Isabella could imagine a life here, and a happy one at that. Well, as happy as she could be given her predicament.

Her hands folded over her stomach, still not used to the unfamiliar presence of the bump. She thought of a future here with her child, of small feet padding under archways and laughter echoing across the ceiling. She thought of smiles and nights spent holding her little one to her chest. She thought of all the small things motherhood could provide, most of all companionship in this dark and unforgiving land.

Isabella would protect her child from the dangers of this world. That, she swore. No one and nothing would touch her child if she could prevent it. She would sooner die then see such a small, innocent life snuffed out in the same manner hers was.

The walk led her out of the palace and onto the grounds. The view from the stairs was incredible. All debris had been swept away by doting dryads, leaving nothing but a path of greenery down to the river bank. The sun shone high in the sky, clouds as white and fluffy as cotton dotting the sky. Isabella meandered in the direction of the breeze, letting a heavenly scent lead her towards a pocket of colorful roses enclosed by gates of wrought iron.

Stepping under the trellises, Isabella felt peace. The world stopped spinning, her head cleared, and the sickness faded into the background. She was surrounded in nothing but roses from ceiling - yes, ceiling, as there was once some kind of domed pergola that the vines had taken over - to grassy floor. Fallen petals blanketed the grass, her feet kicking them up and tossing them into the air. The perfume of the blooms was intoxicating, calming in a way that nothing and no one else had succeeded in doing.

Isabella stared in wonder at this magical place, spinning slowly where she stood so she could take it all in.

"What is this place?"

She had not meant to express her thoughts aloud, but it was then she realized that she was not alone.

"Irina so loved the flowers," Edward sighed, running his fingers reverently over the plush red petals. They were so saturated that the color rubbed off on his hand, running in wet drops like blood. "They were her favorite, so right in the middle of the largest grove, I created this garden to house the largest, most incredible blooms. Even now, they astound."

The River God stood across the space in contrast to the reds and pinks as his robes were stark white, so white they nearly blended into his skin. He did not appear to be upset that Isabella had found this garden that so clearly held a beloved space in his missing heart.

"They are beautiful," Isabella agreed, though she dared not touch a single one.

Isabella took a turn around the overgrown garden, stunned at the wall to wall blooms. They had truly taken over. The covered every surface except the centerpiece: a large stone platform seating an empty fountain with a statue of a woman standing as the centerpiece. She held a stone orb - presumably symbolic for the sun, and also from where the water would once have sprung - in one hand, the other hand placed over her heart. Her smile was all too familiar, angelic and absolutely radiant.

It was Irina.

"An incredible likeness, is it not?" Edward asked, moving beside Isabella as he stared longingly at the statue.

"Yes, incredible."

"What she loved turned into her jailer," Edward said mournfully, eyes cast upward at the stone statue of his fallen love. "This garden, once her pride and joy, has become her grave. I could not stand to leave her to the elements as Aro was so inclined to do to those who had displeased him. I snuck into his palace, knowing the risk to my person, and retrieved her body. I buried her here, hoping that at least in death, she would find the peace she never quite had in her short life."

Heartbreaking in its honesty, the confession moved Isabella to tears. Her eyes watered, fat drops leaking from the corners of her eyes. Damn her fickle moods! This was the child's fault, she knew it. Regardless of the reason, Isabella knew deep down that she probably would have felt the same way even without the interference of the babe.

She swallowed thickly, keeping her eyes focused on the statue instead of on her husband who was, undoubtedly, wondering why tears were being shed at all. He would not want her pity, that she knew for certain. "I would love to have known her, and know you as she did."

Edward hummed thoughtfully, his golden gaze unwavering as it lingered upon the statue. "I was different then. Unrecognizable, even."

"Because you had a heart?"

"Because I did not yet know how it felt to carry the weight of failure upon my shoulders."

Another astonishing bout of truth that left her reeling. Isabella wondered if this was to be their new normal: going from nothing but lies to nothing but startling revelations. Both extremes had her frustrated, though in different ways. When it was nothing but lies and patronizing half-truths, Isabella felt disrespected and hurt. Now, Isabella was frustrated because she had no idea how to reconcile this new version of her husband with the monster she had created. She did not know how to amend a past she was not a part of, nor pave way to a future that she did not know that they still had.

"Plia came to me last night. She said you were upset with her, that you sent her away."

The subject change was abrupt and unexpected, but also alarming. Isabella did not know that Plia cared so much; she assumed that her show of compassion the day before was just an act. Genuine or not, however, did little to change Isabella's opinion of the aura. There was still broken trust and broken friendship between them. Isabella knew that no matter what Plia did, there were some offenses that could not be mended.

"You know why."

"Yes, I suppose so," Edward replied, unsurprised. "And I suppose it is senseless of me to ask if forgiveness is in the cards?"

"Very."

"Very well," Edward nodded, once again unsurprised with the turn of events, as if he had predicted this exact outcome. Perhaps he was starting to pay attention to Isabella after all. "I shall have her reassigned to the southernmost corridors to keep her out of your way. Would that be acceptable?"

It was more than acceptable; it was overly considerate, and dare she say protective. More actions like these, and Isabella would be forced to believe that the River God actually cared about her more than just out of obligation.

"Thank you, My Lord."

"No thanks required, Isabella," he dismissed shortly, not wanting any praise. Edward tucked his hands behind his back, eyes moving past the statue to look at her properly, settling on her growing stomach. "It has also become aware to me that the child will be in need of a nursery. One of the rooms in your wing should suit. Which should be cleared for the task?"

"There is no need. There is ample space in my own quarters to sleep the child. I was thinking of moving out the sitting furniture and replacing it with a cot, perhaps a chest of toys and other necessities."

"If you are certain," Edward hummed agreeably, not seeming to mind one way or another. In fact, the River God was _exceptionally_ agreeable this day, as he had been since he stepped foot onto this ground. Perhaps being around his lost love found him open to feeling vulnerable, less irritable.

"You have been exceedingly generous towards me, and I was simply wondering...why?"

"Why?" he repeated, dumbfounded.

"Yes. I know you do not care for me, at least not in the way a husband should, and that is fine because I do not care for you in that way either, but I have come to expect a certain level of...callousness...from you, and now..."

"And now?"

"You are gentle. Compassionate. I do not understand the change. Have I done something? Surely this all cannot stem from one revelation."

The River God thinned his lips as he stared pensively out amongst the garden. Isabella had the feeling that, until this moment, he had not been consciously aware of his change. He looked reflective, as if assessing all his previous actions and comparing them to the ones of the past. Even a blind man could spot the change. Isabella took a stab that maybe his brush with death and her playing nursemaid had humbled him, but she did not think such a mundane reason could affect the heart of a centuries-old deity. No, this had to do with Irina and her looming presence in this painfully beautiful place.

A hand reached out to stroke the flowers once more, except this time, a thorn caught on Edward's thumb and a small drop of ichor leaked onto the petal, sparkling gold in the faded sunlight.

"Apologies have never been my strong suit, and I have never before considered the need to apologize to a mortal, but I am realizing now that I have made mistakes, mistakes that have impacted your life and wellbeing. You were my responsibility, and I let you down. For that, I think I shall always harbor regret. This is my way of remedying that."

"You are only being kind to clean your own conscience?"

"Partly."

"And the other part?" Isabella asked, only to be met with Edward's walls rapidly rebuilding themselves. She could feel him closing down the subject without a word. She had pushed too far, and he was running away, falling back into old patterns. Isabella fought not to sigh. "I suppose it matters not. I am simply glad that we are on civil terms."

"Yes, for that I am grateful as well," Edward agreed cordially.

Conversation died, and this time the silence lingered. There was no reason for her to stay. She had intruded upon his sanctuary for long enough.

"Edward," Isabella called gently before she left, her husband turning around at the sound of his name. "For what it is worth, for all the trouble I caused you, inadvertently and otherwise, I am truly sorry."

He said nothing, but his eyes did all the talking. They were filled with such a sadness, one that Isabella knew would never leave, but now there was a seed of hope nestled there. Maybe...maybe there was hope for them after all, hope for a cordial future raising this child, loving this child, and who knows...maybe even loving each other. Isabella would have thought it impossible before, but...if the man she had seen these past days stayed for good...who knew what was possible?

She was nearly to the steps when something caught her eye. Something out of the ordinary - hulking and monstrous. Something covered with fur, staring at her husband with hungry black eyes

Isabella screamed and Edward turned right into the jowls of a wolf.


	26. The Beginning of the End

The Beginning of the End

Godly reflexes were just that: godly.

As soon as the cry escaped Isabella's lips, the River God turned around. Arms raised above his head for protection, he was able to reach out and grasp the jaws of the beast before they could snap his head clean off. The fangs alone on the wolf were huge, sharp and deadly, perfect for tearing through flesh. Edward held the creature in place, braced himself on bended knee, using all of his strength to push back. Isabella was worried about his wounds reopening, but he held on.

In one fluid motion, and with an almighty wrench, Edward thrust to standing, knocking the wolf off its feet. The momentary shift made the beast lose its balance, and Edward seized his chance. He wrapped both arms around its furry neck and twisted.

A sickening crack filled the air, and the River God tossed the lifeless body across the garden where it reverted back into the form of a man.

Tears flooded Isabella's eyes as she recognized the Shapeshifter: a youngling from Leah's pack, her brother Seth.

She kneeled down beside the body, extending a tentative hand to his still chest. There was no heartbeat underneath tanned skin. It was unnatural to feel him so cool. Shapeshifters were known to be warm, exceptionally so. In the early nights of their coupling, Jacob would often curl up close to her and act as a blanket, a comfort during uncertain times.

"He was just a boy when I met him. So young, so innocent," Isabella lamented.

She had only seen him from afar, but even those brief interactions showed a resilient spirit and precocious nature. Her fingers petted through his hair, noticing that the long locks had been shorn. It was a tradition amongst the Shapeshifters; once the younglings were deemed old enough to join the ranks of the pack, they would cut off their hair to symbolizes their fledgling status. It was not until many years after their initiation that they were allowed to grow it back. Now Seth's never would.

The River God was not as sentimental. He scowled at the body, assessing the damage the Shapeshifter had caused both to him physically and to the garden he so cherished.

"He was only the first. There will be more."

As if to drive his point further, the faint sound of howls filled the air. They came from somewhere in the distance, over the hills far from the valley, but close enough to reach them by sundown. The Shapeshifters would return for the body, and more. This was now two of their kind that had been slain by the hands of the River God and his wife. She was not naive enough anymore to believe that something like this could be forgiven or brushed aide.

Isabella wanted to resent her husband for his callousness. Couldn't he tell that she was grieving? She wanted to blame him for killing a child, but she could not find it in her to do so. Edward was justified in his actions, unable to discern who lied beneath the fur. For all he knew, it could have been Sam, their coats too similar to tell apart. Not that it would have made a difference. Edward would be unlikely to have changed his course of action. He loathed the Shapeshifters, and for good reason. Isabella only wished that it had been one who was a bit less innocent.

Time had not changed Seth much at all; he still had his baby fat. This was likely his first mission as part of the pack, and now his last.

"Why send him? Why would they do this?"

She did not understand. There were plenty other, more seasoned warriors. It seemed cruel to let someone so inexperienced fight someone as powerful and mighty as the River God. Seth was disadvantaged from the start.

"He was expendable. They can make more where he came from," Edward explained apathetically. The glare on his face was fierce enough to kill the wolf if he were still alive. "It is the beauty of their biology. Aro created the perfect army of self-replicating soldiers. So long as two survive, more can thrive."

"This is about me, isn't it," Isabella said miserably, feeling guilt gnaw its way through her core. "This is because I killed Emily. They want retribution."

"Believe it or not, Isabella, not every misfortune is about you," Edward sighed and looked at her pointedly, as if willing her to see things on a grander scale. "I believe this has less to do with a dead Shapeshifter's whore and more to do with Aro sending his loyal soldiers to retrieve the one item which has the power to destroy the divine."

She connected the pieces. "He wants the sword."

Edward nodded once firmly. "We are simply in his way. Aro would just as happily steal back the sword and leave me to suffer for the rest of my days, but if the Shapeshifter end up murdering you and I in the process of retrieval, all the better."

"Aro has left you with this sword for millennia. Why take it back now?"

"Everything has changed now. Up until now, I have done everything the same. Then you come along and run away, align yourself with the Shapeshifters, and bring war to my home. And what do I do? I run away with you. I cause the River to revolt. I break my promise and return to my father's domain. You are the last bride, my last chance at getting my heart back. I think that Aro believes I have become desperate, that I will do whatever it takes to survive. And I think that terrifies him enough to want the sword back."

"He thinks you wish to use the sword against him."

"I believe so."

"And is he justified in his belief?" Isabella asked, both curious and terrified. "If the time comes, would you strike against him?"

She knew her husband to be a violent man, an angry man when provoked. After all, he had just killed a Shapeshifter before her very eyes. But this was different. This was full blown revolt. A strike against Aro would be a strike against the very foundation upon which the hierarchy of divinity is built. Edward would be inciting all out war. Yet...Isabella wanted war. She was chomping at the bit for it, and she could not place why. War was certainly not a good time to bring a child into the world, but perhaps war was what was needed to make this world a suitable place for that child. Perhaps this was the only way for her to be truly free. With Aro gone, Edward would regain his heart, and her marriage would more than likely be dissolved with the necessity gone. She could be free, free to raise her baby in any manner she saw fit, with whomever she saw fit.

Edward stared at the blade in his hand, turning the hilt slowly so that the light reflected off of each of the colorful gems. It was both beautiful and horrible at the same time. He only stared at it in disgust, brow furrowing and nose wrinkling as he imagined all the devastation it had brought, and all the violence it had yet to sow.

"When the time comes, I will do whatever is necessary. And if that means driving this blade through his shriveled, empty soul and watching the life run from his eyes, then I will. With the utmost pleasure."

While the thought of seeing Aro dead brought Isabella a certain amount of security, she could not help but feel concerned for Edward's wellbeing. To kill a primordial had to weight heavily on the soul, and to live with that kind of death and its repercussions for millennia upon millennia seemed unbearable. Isabella wondered if he really knew what he was saying, or if it was the long-buried rage taking over.

"Is that what Irina would want?"

"Irina is _dead_ because of him," Edward spat, his eyes narrowing at her name. "Her opinion is irrelevant."

"I just do not want you to lose what is left of your soul."

"That is just the thing, Isabella. Everything I have to lose, Aro already took from me. If anything, I have everything to gain, and if I fail, the only thing he has left to take is my life."

It was such a grim view that Isabella was unable to see it. Even with as much as she had lost - her independence, free will, father, village, and so much more - she could not imagine being in a place where her life meant so little that she was willing to lay it on the line. The will to live was the only thing keeping her going most days, and now it was her child. But Edward...he was willing to risk it all. Did he truly think he had nothing else to live for? What about his duties as the River God? His domain? His family?

Her?

Given their history, it was foolish for Isabella to feel any kind of way towards this confession, but she could not help it. The mood swings from her accelerated childbearing caused a wave of upset to wash over her at his admission that she, in essence, was not worth living for. She meant so little to him that he would rather die avenging a centuries-dead minor deity than protecting his very much alive, very human bride. Yes, it was selfish, and yes, Isabella doubted she would do the same for him, but their situations were not the same. Edward would be just fine without her. Without him, she would never survive. Besides, he was the one who put her into this mess. Until he got her out of it, it was his responsibility to look after her.

"And what about me? If you lose, where does that put me?" she challenged, knowing her tone was petulant, but she was past caring. The day had been stressful enough without having to worry about perfect composure.

"In a better place."

Her heart skittered in her chest, dread settling in at the implication of his words. Edward had sworn to protect her and her child so long as he lived, but he could not make such promises from the dead. If he died, then there was no one to stop Aro from doing whatever he wanted. The primordial could torment her, torture her, kill her in many creative ways. He could harm her child. Just the thought made her ill, arms wrapping tightly around her abdomen as if she could protect the unborn babe from the distant but very real threat.

"I do not want to die," she said in a whisper, tears slipping silently from her eyes as fear and panic took over her. "I am too young. I am not ready to leave. I _cannot leave_ this child."

"Then you best pray I do not fail."

The discussion was over.

Edward swept past her, white robes stained with ichor snapping at his feet. He bent down and picked up Seth's body, carrying the boy bridal style. Limp limbs hung awkwardly, neck lolling back at a disturbing angle, not that comfort was an issue worth worrying over. Wherever Shapeshifters went in their afterlife, Isabella hope Seth found peace.

They made their way to the river bank, passing by curious dryads whose floral eyes lingered long after they had turned their backs to the trees. Though she was not the one who delivered the fatal blow, Isabella felt guilty, as if she were the one who personally snapped Seth's neck. Maybe that was due to her closeness to her husband. Or perhaps survivors guilt was finally starting to catch up with her alongside all her missing time.

The body was deposited on the grass. Edward made sure to arrange the limbs in a natural sleeping pose, most likely to appease the Shapeshifters and stave off any accusations of post-mortem abuse. This inevitable meeting was already going to go poorly. Now with the added death of one of their young...it was only bound to get worse

Isabella stroked her stomach worriedly, praying that violence did not make its way to their shore.

"What do we do now?" she asked, staring out at the waves. They were serene in a way Isabella envied.

"Now, we wait."

So they did. They watched the horizon as the sun started to set, waiting for signs of wolves and the beginning of the end.


	27. The Line in the Sand

A/N: Hello loves! These last 3 chapters I originally planned on doing in one, but it got so unmanageable in length that I decided to break it up. Which mostly explains the fast update times (pretty pleeeeaaassseee don't expect me to keep this pace up - it's nearly impossible). This should answer some of your questions/doubts/outrages about the baby. Or maybe it'll rouse more questions. Who knows. Thanks for all your love and comments! Hope you enjoy! XOXOX!

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The Line in the Sand

It did not take long for the rest of the Shapeshifters to find them.

The trees along the riverbank began to rustle, and then, in a great burst, wolves came hurtling towards Isabella and the River God. There were dozens of them in all different shapes, sizes, and colors. Barking and whining turned into growling when they recognized the body on the grass, snouts coming out to nuzzle their lifeless brother. They pawed impatiently, tearing up the ground, snarling and snapping their jowls, itching for any signal to turn hostile.

Isabella felt her heart beat faster, and she instinctively went to put her hand to her stomach to protect the baby. Edward, in contrast, remained calm and collected, surveying what they were up against. His face was set in grim lines, steeling himself for whatever was to come. Isabella wished to be that composed, but it was taking all she had not to run.

The wolves parted their ranks to give way to the largest among them, a wolf she recognized immediately. As the transformation began, russet fur gave way to a familiar face clad in forest green robes.

"Jacob," Isabella breathed out his name, caught up in a wave of nostalgia.

Just seeing him again was...overwhelming. He looked the same, but completely different. The long hair littered with feathers and braids, the toned muscles and sun-kissed skin, those beautiful dark eyes and chiseled cheeks...it was all the same. However, there was a weight to his shoulders, a straight edge to his posture, and a harshness to his normally kind eyes that had not been there before. He looked older, wiser, and much more jaded than Isabella was used to, and it broke her heart.

She went toward him, hoping for some kind of embrace, but he took a step back. Two identical wolves came to Jacob's side, immediately tensed on their haunches and ready to attack when given the word. The physical warning let her know that any attempt at contact was most unwelcome.

"Isabella."

There was no warmth to his voice, squashing any hopes she had of an easy reconciliation. She flinched away from his evident rejection, hurt to be so thoroughly shut out.

His eyes scoured her over from head to toe, tearing her apart with each passing second. It was hard to tell if he wanted to talk to her or kill her. From the looks of his fellow Shapeshifters and their growing agitation, she had to guess the latter.

 _Edward would never let that happen,_ Isabella reminded herself, forcing in a deep breath. _You are safe so long as he is around_.

And how strange it was that, in such a short span of time, the River God had gone from the one she needed protecting from, to the one protecting her.

"So the rumors are true," Jacob finally spoke, his voice more a sneer than anything. It was jarring. Isabella was used to such tones on her husband, not her lover. "You are with child."

In her haste, she had forgotten to properly drape her robes. Now, her bump was fully exposed across the pulling linens. Isabella took a step back and wrapped her arms around her waist protectively, not liking how the Shapeshifters were staring at her stomach - like they wanted to tear her apart.

" _Your_ child," Isabella found the courage to confess.

This was not exactly how she anticipated delivering the news. Then again, this was not how she anticipated her reunion with Jacob either. In her mind, there was lots of smiling, embracing, even kissing if they became caught up in the moment. Never, in all her scenarios, did she anticipate this frostiness. And so, all the scenarios where she tearfully told Jacob that they were expecting and he swept her off her feet back to the Shapeshifter village faded to black, replaced with this grim reality of a stand off, and one very confused, irate wolf pack.

"That is not possible. Shapeshifters create Shapeshifters. Mortal women do not create Shapeshifters," one of the others, Paul, corrected rather harshly. She remembered Paul as always being outspoken, always the first to create fights and the last to end them, an inflammatory agent amongst the group. It seemed only fitting that he be the one to take the first crack at breaking her.

"Whoever said this child was a Shapeshifter?" Isabella challenged, feeling a burst of defiance in response to the rejection of her child. It angered her that they were so quick to dismiss her, and that Jacob was standing back in silence - especially when they all knew Jacob was the only man that Isabella had been intimate with since her wedding night. "Shapeshifters may create Shapeshifters, but this child is unique. It could be anything."

"Then it is an abomination," another wolf, Jared - gentle, easygoing Jared - spat. Now they were even more disgusted with her. Jared's gaze was pure hate fire, and had Jacob not been there to rest a controlling hand on his shoulder, Isabella knew that Jared already would have made a leap for her jugular.

"Are you certain that the child is not your husband's?"

The question itself was an offense. She could hardly believe the words fell from Jacob's lips. There was not even a remote chance of it being Edward's; her wedding night had been months ago, and that was far too long ago to be a viable conception...was it not?

"N-no..." Isabella stammered, though not nearly as convincing as she would have liked to have been. She did not like this sudden assault on her person. Though her character objectively was ambiguous, and barring the attack on the River God's palace, the Shapeshifter's had known her to be nothing but supportive and kind. They had lived with her in closer confines than her husband, and yet they had to audacity to say such things, and Jacob had the gall to let them. "I do not understand...You used to speak to me of family and love. Though I understand your qualms with my actions, I thought you would find this a joyous occasion."

" _This_ is my family," Jacob enforced, gesturing to the dozen wolves and shifters surrounding him. "There was once a time I would have considered you a part of it...but that was before you betrayed and slaughtered not one, but two of our own."

"Please, let me explain!" Isabella cried, desperately needing to be heard. "Emily tried to kill me! I had to defend myself!"

"Just as the murder of this youngling was self defense?"

"Emily left me no choice, just as Seth left Edward no choice when Seth lashed out and tried to _rip_ his _head off_!"

"There is _always_ a choice."

Jacob was set in his way, and Isabella realized that there would be no changing his mind. What little hope of a peaceful outcome that remained, died. The damage had been done; Jacob was never going to forgive her, same to be said for the rest of the pack, and she was going to have to come to terms with that, even if it did wound her fragile heart.

"Enough of this," Edward sighed, tired of the dramatic back and forth. He stepped forward and placed himself in front of Isabella, removing her from the fray. "Why not tell us why you have really come. Save us all the theatrics of continuing this exhausting verbal battle."

"Very well. The sword, bring it to me," Jacob demanded, squaring his shoulders. His pack straightened their lines, as if preparing to break through the couple to get to it.

"I do not believe you are powerful enough to make such a demand. Where is your leader?"

"Dead," Jacob replied bluntly, stunning Isabella. Her jaw dropped. "Sam could not bear the loss of his mate. Their connection ensured their mutual destruction. He collapsed outside your palace during the raid. Once we found Emily's body amongst the wreckage, we understood what had happened."

"I hope you are not expecting any condolences."

"Nothing of the sort," Jacob put on a false smile, one that was more teeth than lip, a nonverbal warning that Edward was treading on thin ice. "The outcome of this tragedy is that I am now the Alpha. The Shapeshifters answer to me. Now, almighty and powerful River God, I ask you once more: the sword."

Edward scowled, lines pressing deep into his forehead and around his mouth. He did not like being bossed around. So many millennia of it had caused resentment to fester.

"And if I refuse?"

"Then suffer the consequences of crossing me. Be warned: I am not the forgiving man I once was."

"I would say that your former youngling suffered the consequences of pushing boundaries. I would advise you not test yours."

Jacob seemed amused, flashing another dark smile that was all teeth. "You would court death and incite war, all to protect a piece of metal?"

"We all know the power of that so-called piece of metal, and I would prefer to keep it out of the hands of those who wish to do me harm," Edward snapped back, standing chest to chest with Jacob, fearless and fueled with fire. "Send a message back to your master. If Aro wants the sword so badly, he can come fetch it himself. He need not bother to send his lap dogs."

Jacob's lip curled into a snarl. Paul actually snapped his jaw, causing a few of the wolves in their numbers to growl.

"It is unwise to pick this battle. Now that the packs are united, we are more than strong enough to tear down your domain," Jacob threatened, and Isabella had to admit, the thought of a united Shapeshifter front was more than a little terrifying, especially if Jacob's stories of their former glory were accurate. "Leah shall be very motivated to spill your blood once I bring back the body of her brother."

"Let the bitch come. Let you all come. Watch what becomes of you."

Jacob's gaze darkened, sheer bloodlust present in those dark brown eyes. Oh, how Isabella would trade anything to see the love there again, anything but the cruelty she once associated with Sam.

"This is the side you picked: the side of a man who would place his wife and her unborn child in the line of fire to avenge his own broken pride. Shameful," Jacob decreed as he focused his attention back on Isabella. They shook her to the core, making her doubt everything she ever thought she knew about the Shapeshifters.

"Talk not of shame when you possess none," Edward spat, pulling Isabella behind him to shield her from the moving pack. "Had your mange minded its own territory, and your robes remained fastened at the waist, we may not have been placed in this mess."

"Do not forget it takes two to create this particular problem, and I suppose your beloved wife now carries her fair share of mange," Jacob said rather smugly, the only time he appeared proud to have been attached to Isabella. How demeaning it was to be used in slander against her husband, hers and Jacob's once beautiful connection reduced to a baser jab against male pride.

"Here I was under the impression that she was _your_ beloved."

"At one time I would have called her by such a name, but that was before. Now, Leah and I stand together, mated with a single drive: retribution. Together, we will run against you and together we will seek justice for what you have done."

" _Leah_?" Isabella repeated, dumbfounded, unable to process such a large, unexpected development. "You are mated to _Leah_?"

She did not mean for the name to be stressed in such an impertinent way. She did not mean to let her upset show, but it was terribly hard to rein in her emotions when they were changing as rapidly as the river flows. How could Jacob pick Leah? How could he move on so quickly, forget all that they had, shut her out and cast her aside as if she meant nothing?

"You have _no claim_ over me," Jacob spat, his jaw trembling and eyes masking his first real emotion outside of empty arrogance: pain. "I knew you were lost to me as soon as you left for his palace. I asked you not to go, and you defied me. You surged towards this monster and left me behind as if I meant _nothing._ I knew so long as he breathed that your heart would never fully belong to me, and that you would only keep hurting mine. What finally broke me was finding Emily's body. I knew it had to be you; as cruel as the River God may be, he knows the sword too intimately to use it against his own. But not you. In that moment, you were as cruel, if not _crueler_ , than your husband. And that was when I realized I could _never_ love you."

Each word cut deeper than a knife, slicing right to the bone. Tears welled in her eyes, falling down from cheeks in fat drops, unable to stop them from coming. Never in her life, not through all she had suffered, had she felt so demeaned. Not only was Jacob denouncing her, but he was doing it in front of his entire pack and her husband. She had an audience to her humiliation, and if she broke down on her knees, it would only further the spectacle. The Shapeshifters seemed to be enjoying her pain, relishing in it - Paul and Jared especially. Their lips were curled up into feral grins as their alpha cast her out once and for all.

What hurt most of all were the lies.

Isabella was not as cruel as her husband. She was not cruel at all. Was she? All this time she believed that it was her compassion and naivety that was her curse, that if she was harder or meaner then maybe terrible things would stop happening to her. To believe that she was capable of the same calibre of malice as her husband...that was impossible. For that to be true, she would have to lack a heart. Though, in the current moment, that did not seem like such a bad thing, for without a heart she would not have to experience this much heartbreak.

"A-and...the child...?" Isabella protested weakly, feeling faint and panicked.

"I can love nothing the River has claimed," Jacob said coldly, no empathy in those flat brown eyes.

Then, he turned his back to her and shifted, his wolf form carrying him away from the river bank in leaps and bounds. The other wolves followed suit, growling and snapping their displeasure as they left, making it clear that this was not over. Somehow, they managed to carry Seth's body with them, though Isabella was not in the right mindset to focus on how.

Her mind was spinning, her world narrowing and falling out from under her. The plans she had, the hopes for the future, they were all gone. Everything was _gone_. She had _nothing_ left. She had -

"Isabella?"

She heard her name being called, but it sounded far away, as if she had her head under the water and the river kept pulling her further and further away.

And she could not breathe. Why was she unable to breathe? The air was clear, no aurae in sight, and yet her lungs refused to pull in what she needed to survive. Everything felt tight and clammy and restricted. She pulled at her robes for some kind of relief, but it was useless. She was _useless_.

Isabella heard her name called one more time before her knees gave out and everything went dark.


	28. The Anticipation

A/N: Sorry about the abrupt hiatus loves. Life has been stressful to say the least, but I'm back for the time being and I'm going to focus on pushing more of this story out. It's actually coming to a climax very soon, so you have something to be excited about. I hope that there are still some of you left out there who give a shit about this story. To those of you who do, I hope you enjoy! It's pretty short because - I'll be 100% honest - I'm pretty out of jive with the characters, so I need some time to ease myself back into the long chapters. Please be patient with me. Thanks bunches! XOXOX

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The Anticipation 

Isabella woke inside her room upon her bed.

She did not worry about how she got there, not when she saw the River God sitting at the foot of the bed, watching her intently. The lines that creased his forehead told her that she had given him a scare. Reaching down, her hands found the now-familiar bump which had grown slightly since that morning. She let out a breath she did not know she had been holding, relieved that no harm had come to the child.

Then, she turned to her husband and asked, "Wh-what happened?"

"The Shapeshifters caused you a great upset. You worked yourself into a hysteria and collapsed. I brought you back here to recuperate," Edward replied, studying her face for any more signs of distress. "Fear not, you have only been asleep a few hours at most. I assume your body needs its rest to support the child."

"The child..." Isabella stammered, her hands fluttering over the growing swell. Her head throbbed as she tried to recall the day's events, more confused now than she was before. "Jacob...he said something about the River...that he could not love what the River had claimed. What did he mean by that?"

"Things work differently here, Isabella. This you know greater than many," Edward sighed, glancing down at her stomach as if the child inside may reach out and bite him. "Creatures borne on either side of the River have the ability to manifest the characteristics of their environment. For the majority of this babe's development, you spent your time in my father's domain, a place laden with ancient power. Moreover, ever since returning, you have remained in my care - the care of the River."

"But what does that mean?"

"It means that though this child may have been sired from Shapeshifter blood, the River has claimed it as its own, imbued it with her magic - more than likely when she saved our lives that night we escaped the attack on the palace. For all intents and purposes, the child may as well be of my doing," Edward explained, his face set in grim lines.

"So this child is no longer Jacob's, but yours?" Isabella surmised, her eyes wide as saucers. To think that such things were possible...it overwhelmed her.

Edward grimaced and nodded. "As soon as you revealed your situation, I feared this would happen for many reasons."

"Feared?"

"None of the children I have sired have lived to see their first year. Whether it be because this land has deformed them, or because Aro wills it so, this child is fated for disaster."

"Is there not anything we can do?"

"You do not think I have tried? For thousands of years, that is all I have done!" Edward snapped, frustration evident in every aspect of his being.

A feeling of dread settled over Isabella like a shroud. Thousands of years and nothing had changed. Thousands of years and yet, there they were, stuck in the same vicious cycle. Isabella had been faced with many difficult, terrible situations since her journey across the River, but this was the first time she felt truly hopeless.

"Oh, what a pity - to be born into this savage world is tragedy enough, but what good could possibly befall a halfling bastard?" Isabella lamented, feeling the tears start to flow. "Perhaps this child would be better off dead."

She did not mean that. She could not mean that. Even as the words passed her lips she felt a terrible regret. But was a life of struggle really something she could put an innocent babe through for her own selfish want of having her child in her arms?

"It is too late to change anything now. What is done, is done."

Edward's expression was set in stone, his words resolute and unyielding. He did not deny nor approve Isabella's outburst, and so it was impossible to tell if this was a morbid sentiment that they shared. Even though Isabella had come to think of the child as Jacob's, the idea of Edward being against it hurt. He faced this newfound paternity with as much displeasure as he did his sister Rose. Did the all mighty, heartless River God truly want another child? One he would watch wither and die as he had all the others? Isabella could not imagine that he would, and in all honesty, at this very moment, she did not want that either.

"Why not just attack now. They had every reason. We were unarmed and unprepared."

"This was a warning of darker times to come. They wanted to intimidate me, see how far they could push before I broke. Aro more than likely did not want them to strike unless provoked, or at least until he had what he wanted. They wanted a reason to attack, to break their orders, but I gave them none." At this Edward growled as if he, himself, were the creatures he so despised. "Do not be naive, Isabella; they will return with greater aggression. It is only a matter of when."

Always with the fighting. Always warfare and battle and darkness. Isabella was tired of being held at the mercy of cruel men.

"Then we shall have to take a stand and be ready when they do." Isabella asserted. Edward looked at her as if she had sprouted a second head, like this world had finally broken her, but Isabella would not yield. "I shall not roll over and let one maniacal deity destroy what remains of my life. If Aro and his wolves wish to destroy me, then he will not do so easily. Do as you wish, My Lord, but I will be a docile puppet in this game no longer."

Lying in a bed, freshly awoken from passing out, and cradling an enlarged stomach - Isabella knew she hardly looked a formidable opponent. Other creatures had underestimated her before, much to their own detriment. She knew that fortune had been in her favor, that there was no plausible reason why she had survived so many circumstances that should have taken her life. She only hoped that fortune would not fail her this one last time.

"You were hardly ever docile," Edward replied, still shocked but the beginnings of smile tugged at his lips. "You continue to surprise me, Isabella. At times I wonder if it were the village who sent you, or something else entirely."

It was almost a compliment. Almost.

"Does this mean that you will stand with me?"

"I never had any intention of giving Aro a fair fight. If my death is what he wants, I will make it a point to take as many of his followers down with me," Edward said, his smile sharpening. "Besides, we may still have one advantage."

"Oh?" Isabella was not aware of any advantage.

"The sword. So long as we wield it, Aro will have to remain defensive," Edward answered, and Isabella could see his mind whirling with possibilities.

"Perhaps all is not lost after all."

Isabella scarcely allowed herself to believe it.

"This hope, it is dangerous," Edward warned. He too look as though he wanted to fall into the supporting arms of hope, but would not quite allow himself. It must have been much harder, after all those centuries of misery and woe, to think that his suffering could come to an end.

"Everything in this world is dangerous," Isabella countered. "If I had to choose, I would rather be spurned by hope than swallowed by despair."

The River God seemed to take her words to heart, nodding slowly. They both remained quiet after, nothing more for them to say. Isabella had made her decision, and hopefully Edward had made his. Whatever happened, they would face it head on. Isabella simply hoped it would be together, if not for any other reason than increased protection for the child. However, she could not deny that she felt an urge to protect her husband, to ensure his safety as well. When that started, she was not sure. What it meant was a mystery as well. She just knew that she wanted all of them to survive this war.

The child kicked within her, and Isabella gasped, curling in on herself. It was such a strange and uncomfortable sensation, yet she immediately felt a rush of love overcome her. Her hands roved over her stomach, chasing the rapid succession of kicks. They pattered under her hands, and tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

Her child, so strong and full of life. Halfling or not, doomed or not, she was going to do everything to keep them that way.

"Rest," Edward insisted, watching the scene attentively. There was something strange in his gaze, something sad yet akin to longing. Then he rose from his seat and stepped away from the bed. "I shall begin all the necessary preparations."

He left before Isabella could say another word.


	29. The Apology

A/N: Sorry again for another abrupt absence. I've had horrific writer's block on this story for the longest time. Please be patient with me. I will not abandon you, but it might take a little bit longer to get over this hump. Glimmer of hope - there's only like, five more chapters! Whuuuuuutttttt?

Cool news! This story was nominated in Round 1 of the TwiFic Fandom Awards in two categories: Favorite Drop Everything Fic and Favorite Out of This World Fic. I don't think anything came of it, but it's so nice to know that y'all still love and support this story so much! XOXOX!

* * *

The Apology

In the days that followed the Shapeshifter's departure, Isabella felt a tentative sense of normality.

It was not real, of course, for how could there truly be peace of mind when a battle loomed in the horizon? But every day, the warm sun rose and lit the riverside in hues of gold and yellow, promising yet another clear, beautiful morning. The days went by without so much as a drop of rain or storm cloud, lulling Isabella into a false sense of security.

She spent her days in the gardens, tending to the roses, or walking along the paths parallel to the tiny streams that cut through the hills. Sometimes the River God would join her, when he had finished whatever ward or chore he felt needed fixing. In the evenings he would sit next to her and read passages from any and every book he could lay his hands on, old and new, from science to fiction, stories Isabella had heard a thousand times to tomes so old only the ancients had heard these words aloud. Or, if not reading, then playing. Edward had taken up the harp once more, filling the halls with sweet music whenever he was in he mood. Isabella secretly preferred those nights over the ones spent reading. For, in those moments when Edward lost himself in the music, his fingers dancing over those strings as if they were part of him, he looked less troubled and more like the man Isabella wished she had married all along.

If only that man had greeted her as her boat washed ashore...how different her life could have been...

Isabella thought of such fantasies often, her mind taking her all the places her swollen ankles could not. Every day, her stomach grew bigger and bigger. It was nearly to the point where even walking was a hassle, her breath coming in shallow pants before she made it half way down the hall from her bedchambers to the dining hall. That did not stop Isabella from trying, though. The idea of feeling trapped and bedridden as she had been earlier in her relationship with the River God did not appeal to her.

Now, as she sat alongside her favorite creek, picking at the wild flowers while the water slowly trickled by, Isabella did not feel trapped. She felt free. And strangely, she felt as though she were back with Jacob, rolling around the grass, wild and carefree. She tried not to dwell on that feeling, however. It still made her heart ache to think of how thoroughly she had ruined that relationship, and how completely he had shattered her heart.

Isabella plucked a white bloom from the ground and started pulling at the petals. She had played a game when she was a child, back when she still had friends and was seen as a normal girl and not the future of the village. She and the other girls would pluck the petals one by one, reciting _'he loves me, he loves me not'_ over and over until the last petal revealed their fate. It was a silly game, one that held little weight.

Still, sitting by herself, full of uncertainty of what the future may hold, Isabella felt compelled to give the game another go. Her fingers worked from memory, and when she brandished the last petal of _he loves me,_ Isabella laughed. Everyone hated her; who could possibly be left to love her?

She threw the stem into the water...and upon a pair of dirty, pale feet.

Isabella jumped, and met the smiling face of the Goddess of Springs and Mountain Streams.

"My dear Isabella, we meet again."

Alice looked just as she did when Isabella last saw her in the Ocean God's palace - her spritely figure clad in washed out, ragged robes, hair a mess of wildflowers and weeds. Her bare feet skipped over the rocks in the creek, leaping from spot to spot until she stood not an arm's length away.

"Alice, what a surprise," Isabella replied, trying her best to muster a smile through her unpleasant shock. Alice never failed to set Isabella's nerves on edge, the goddess' very presence unsettling.

"You look troubled," Alice commented, reaching out to stroke the skin under Isabella's eyes with her cold, pale fingers. "Such darkness mars your pretty face. And yet, you are far rounder than I recall. Fattened like a calf awaiting slaughter."

Those pale fingers moved from from Isabella's face to her stomach, petting it covetously. Shivers ran down Isabella's spine, prickling every hair on her body. Instinctively, Isabella stepped away, out of the goddess' reach.

"How did you find me?"

"Well, I heard you of course!" Alice declared, as if it were obvious. She skipped to another rock, kicking up some of the cool water as she went. "The creeks babble - endless gossips they are - and all their idle chatter reaches my ears. When they told me that Edward had returned to this place with his new bride, and what a sad, sad bride she was, I had to come and see."

"And so you have seen," Isabella said with a smile. This was not Alice's true intent, and Isabella wished to know what Alice wanted so that she may be rid of the goddess as quickly as possible. "Is there anything else that drew you here so that I may assist?"

"So generous, so kind, and yet...those are the most dangerous qualities," Alice commented, her smile sharp and toothy, much like a predator's. She crouched down to the creek and scooped water into one pale palm, bringing it to her mouth. She smacked her blue-tinted lips together as she swallowed. "I wish to know, why are you so sad? Why do your tears fall into the streams? They taste of desperation and sorrow."

Isabella wanted to ask how Alice could know what tears tasted of, or if that was another trick.

"Surely you know the danger surrounding my circumstance," Isabella replied evenly, knowing that the goddess was purposely feigning ignorance. "Nothing has changed in that regard since I last left your company."

"Ah, I see," Alice sighed, realization dawning in those large black eyes. She sat cross-legged on her stone, picking at the worn hem of her robes, mulling over her thoughts. "I can provide the protection you seek."

"Truly?" Isabella asked, stunned by such an offer. Until she remembered that nothing in this land was offered out of good faith. "And what would you want in return for such a kindness?"

"Nothing terribly outlandish," Alice replied, batting her eyelashes in a faux-innocent way that spoke volumes about the enormity of what she was about to ask. "I only ask for the fruit of your womb."

The words did not make sense. Isabella heard them, but she could not comprehend.

"You want my child?"

"A small price to pay for the value of what you desire," Alice shrugged, as if a child was as acceptable a bargaining piece as gold. Isabella was horrified at the thought, speechless as Alice continued. "My mountains provide a vast network of caverns so complex that not even the God of Forging Paths could navigate."

"Your version of protection is to trap me in your labyrinth?" Isabella gawked, completely overwhelmed by this goddess' delusions. Overwhelmed and consumed with the fierce need to protect her child from this goddess. "You are insane."

"I certainly am not," Alice replied in a deadpan. "Death is upon you, Isabella. Whether it be delivered by the hands of Aro or come from the inevitable insanity induced by the caves is your choice. At least, in this situation, your offspring has ample chance to survive. Aro would most certainly see the child disemboweled and dismembered. Such things would not happen under my rule."

The thought of her child ravaged in such a way, dead before it could even see the sun, made Isabella sick. But so was the thought of handing over her child to a creature as fickle as Alice. Just the thought of the goddess' cold caress upon her child's face was wrong. Alice may not want to harm her child, but there were many ways to inflict pain that would not show on the body.

"I should not be so morbid," Alice chided herself, shaking her head. In her horror, Isabella had forgotten she was still speaking. It was, perhaps, the first sensible thing Alice had said the entire conversation. "You could be the first mortal who actually manages their way out of my mountains. You certainly have managed much more than any other. Though, that is not to say that Aro would not be waiting for you upon your return."

Throughout her entire rambling, Alice did not meet Isabella's eyes. Instead, those black, emotionless voids stared right at Isabella's stomach with a singular focus. Isabella wrapped her arms around her stomach, as if that would deter Alice's attention.

Then, something occurred to Isabella that suddenly put this whole encounter into perspective.

"This is not about me. This is about the child." Isabella said in her moment of revelation. "It is clear that you do not care whether I live or die, but for some reason the survival of my child is important to you. Why? What do you know that I do not?"

Alice shrugged, neither confirming nor denying Isabella's claim. The goddess did not have to say anything, however. Her body language spoke loudly enough.

"The mountain tells me many things; over its vast peaks come glimpses of times yet to pass, glimpses of things no one yet knows," Alice replied with an impish smile, purposely being obtuse. "You shall have to be more specific."

Isabella felt uncomfortably like a mouse being toyed with by a cat, and at any moment that cat was going to pounce. Even though Alice was still seated on the rock in the middle of the creek, there was still a coiled tension in her frame, one that suggested that she could easily bound up and over to Isabella faster than Isabella could scream if need be. Isabella's eyes scanned the area for routes of escape, quick paths back to the Rose Palace, but even if she ran - in her condition she would be easily caught.

She was Alice's captive audience, and Alice knew it.

"Stay away from my wife."

Isabella exhaled heavily, letting out a breath she did not know she was holding. She was saved.

Edward walked into the clearing, taking a position to Isabella's right. He was careful not to touch any bare skin as he placed a stabilizing hand at the base of her spine. Through the connection, Isabella felt herself tremble, knowing that though she was terrified Edward would protect her. She did not have to fight this battle on her own.

Edward did not need to spit venom in order for the waifish goddess to understand the threat of his words

"And so the whore becomes the wife. How curious indeed," Alice mused, seemingly entertained by the protectiveness in Edward's stance. "Do not worry. I meant the mortal no harm."

"Somehow I do not believe you. Perhaps it is because Isabella is shaking, or perhaps it is because so much that comes from your mouth is lies."

"A harsh accusation." Alice crossed her arms over her chest, though she hardly seemed offended. "I have done nothing to desereve such slander."

Edward's eyes narrowed as if to challenge Alice to provide proof. Isabella did not have to be a genius to understand that there was probably a long, unspoken history of such moments between them - moments where Alice spun sweet stories and Edward parried through them to reach the truth. "Whatever it is you want from us, you will not get it."

"Jasper will be so disappointed," Alice sighed, cocking her head to the side as she pouted.

"Then disappoint him," Edward replied firmly, gathering Isabella even closer to him. "Leave, Alice. You have overstayed your welcome."

"So be it," Alice shrugged, gathering up her skirts as she skipped upstream, calling over her shoulder, "Enjoy this time together. By the next full moon, a child will be born, and this place will become a burial ground."

Alice spoke with such a certainty that it made Isabella shiver. Perhaps it was a trick of her mind, but Isabella swore she saw the creek turn red - the color of blood.

Edward's grip on Isabella tightened minutely, and then, once Alice had disappeared from sight, he let go altogether. Isabella felt herself destabilize, the loss of Edward's grounding weight sending her reeling. She reached for him and caught him by the forearm. Blessedly, it was covered so that the burn did not add an additional layer of haze.

"Woman, you are a beacon for danger," Edward sighed, though there was no heat to his words. His brow furrowed as he steadied Isabella. "Are you alright?"

"I am not fond of her," Isabella replied, trying to slow her breathing so that her head stopped spinning. Now that Alice was gone, the true impact of what could have happened hit Isabella in full force. She could have so easily been killed. She was a sitting duck...

"No one is," Edward assured. "She is gone now. She will bother us no longer."

"She did not want me. She wanted the child," Isabella explained, her voice shaking as she relayed the disturbing news. "She said that she could protect me, but she wanted the child as payment. Not that it mattered. Apparently I was going to die either way."

"Alice is strange. Who can say why she does the things she does," Edward sighed, steering Isabella towards the path to the Rose Palace. "If she comes again, I shall handle it."

Isabella looked, truly looked at her husband now, and saw that his face was paler than usual. His golden eyes were dull and his expression drawn, as if someone had delivered particularly bad news.

"Are _you_ alright?" Isabella asked, concerned. Part of her wished to touch him, to soothe away the deep lines and creases around Edward's eyes. She would have to content herself with simply being in his presence and hoping it was enough.

"I have had my fill of enemies," Edward replied, and Isabella nodded. It was so tiring having to be on alert at all times, not being able to trust a soul. Their lives were complicated enough with Aro and the Shapeshifters to worry about. Now, to have Alice ingratiate herself into the picture was an added onus. "Come, you need rest. There has been enough adventure for one day."

To that, Isabella could not protest, and she let her husband guide her back to the safety of the palace.

* * *

Later that night, there was no reading nor music.

The couple sat in Isabella's chambers, Edward pacing listlessly as he was lost in thought while Isabella sat at her vanity, her aurae attending to her. Elia was brushing through the knots in Isabella's hair, her hands soothing, while Frisa stoked a fire and prepared her bed for sleep. Isabella was very aware that Edward had not stepped foot in this room since their arrival, and the aurae knew it as well. They kept stealing looks at their master whenever they thought no one was paying attention. Isabella was glad that they did not voice any questions, for she had no answers.

It was nerve-wracking, the way Edward kept pacing. He had been unwilling to let Isabella out of his sight since the run in with Alice, remaining with her throughout the afternoon and dinner and now at nightfall. The moon was rising now, and it only made Edward's condition worse.

Isabella knew that Alice had unsettled him, but this was worse than she originally thought. Perhaps he was more frightened than he let on about his mortality; Isabella certainly was frightened in the face of her own. Perhaps, after millennia alive, even he felt as though death was coming too soon.

And then, a thought occurred to her.

"Edward," Isabella said, drawing the attention of her husband. "Can you die without your heart?"

The room grew heavy with the weight of the question. Elia's hands stopped in their path down Isabella's scalp. From the corner of Isabella's eye, the aura gave her companion a knowing look. Frisa nodded minutely, and the both of them dissolved into air, leaving Edward and Isabella to themselves.

Edward stopped pacing in front of the balcony, his gaze focused on the night sky and the river beyond.

"Just as I can live without my heart, I can die without it. But death would not be peaceful. It would be...half. Just as I live a half-life now, in death I would never truly rest, as part of myself would still linger among the living."

"That sounds terrible."

Edward hummed neither in agreement nor disagreement. Then, he turned to his wife, questioning, "Why so morbid, Isabella?"

"We stare Death in the face, and every breath we take he draws closer. There is little room to be anything but."

"And here I thought I spoke to the woman who would rather be spurned by hope than swallowed by despair," Edward replied, not an ounce of ire in his voice as he relayed Isabella's quote back to her. The way he phrased it was intended to be a tease, or perhaps an uplifting reminder. Instead, Edward just sounded old. Old and tired and a little bit sad.

"If the time comes between saving our lives or risking them, I will choose to put yours before my own," Edward vowed and he walked closer, his voice heavy as a sinking stone. "Not because you are the last bride, nor because of some foolish notion that my actions will spark any kind of love, but because of the two of us, you are the one more deserving of the chance to live."

"Edward, that is - "

"That is the truth," Edward enforced gently, reaching out to place one hand atop of hers, only to stop half way when he remembered that he could not. "I have squandered this life, wasted my chances basking in my own self-loathing. What good to me are more years when I have proven that I will not use them towards the better? Whereas you, Isabella, have a child. Our child. And that child will need its mother: someone to love and nurture them with all the goodness in a heart that, miraculously, survived the wrath of the gods."

"Well," Isabella cleared her throat, pushing past the lump of swallowed sobs growing there. "It is a good thing, then, that we will both make it through this and things will not come to that."

"Isabella..."

"No, say no more!" Isabella insisted, unable to contain her emotions any longer. She turned away from her husband to hide them, refusing to let him see her weak. "I will not stand to hear such things...not when they sound like goodbye."

Everyone and everything she had ever loved had left her. Her mother from birth, her friends from her choosing by the Elders, her father when he sent her over the River, and her village when Aro washed it away. She would not lose her husband as well. There was only so much loss and so much loneliness one heart could take. Edward should have known that better than anyone.

"Isabella," Edward sighed again, his age pouring into the lines on his grim, exhausted face. "While Alice may be many unfavorable things, in all the time I've known her, she has never had a vision that has not come to pass."

"Then we will be prepared," Isabella replied, full of determination. "We will enforce the borders, employ more dryads, strengthen - "

"It is no use," Edward said, cutting off Isabella's rant and crushing her spirits in one fell swoop. "The next full moon, the one Alice spoke of, is tonight."

"That...is impossible..."

The words made no sense.

Isabella tried to recall the most recent nights, how the moon looked when she stepped out onto the balcony to enjoy the fresh air. She usually paid it little mind, only studying the way the light sparkled on the river, though she supposed that the moon needed to be at least near completion to cast such a powerful glow. Now, as she looked up, she could see the full face rising. Soon it would be high.

And if the moon was full...that meant...

Tonight. Tonight she was going to have a child.

"There was no way to tell how much time passed in my father's realm. However hard we tried to estimate this child's arrival must not have come close enough," Edward explained again, as he had for the hundredth time, the words mechanic and terrible. "The end is upon us, my dear."

Her hands flew to her stomach, caressing the large bump. It had grown tremendously in the weeks since leaving the Ocean God's domain, but even at this large size, Isabella still had not guessed her time to deliver had come so soon. She thought surely that there would be another week or two at least. Now...there were so many things for which she had not time to prepare. She had not even finished the nursery for heaven's sake!

Of course, that was a small worry compared to what was coming for her. For some reason it was easier to focus on the small worries than the enormous, life-threatening ones.

"How much time do we have now?" Isabella asked, barely able to breathe through her fear.

"Too little," Edward replied, regret in his tone. "I...I must leave. I need to be at the border to meet the Shapeshifters. Hold them off as long as I can so you and the child can have time to escape."

"And Aro?"

"It is me he wants most. Hopefully his rage will be satisfied with my destruction."

That was a bold assumption, one that neither of them fully believed. But Isabella was in no form to face any gods or primordials. What was it she had called herself earlier? A sitting duck? And what had Alice likened her to with that cruel, cruel smile? A calf fattened for slaughter? The only choice Isabella had was to flee, but would she even have the strength to run amidst the pain of labor?

"If this is truly the last time I see you, then you must know..." Edward said, his head hung low as he gathered his thoughts. Then he brought it up, golden eyes meeting glassy brown. "You must know that I was wrong to treat you as I did. I was wrong, and I apologize."

The apology was everything she did not know she needed and more. Isabella's eyes welled up, and her heart ached.

"Oh, Edward...I forgave you a long time ago."

As Isabella spoke the words, she found them to be true. While the wounds would always sting somewhere in her memory, her husband was forgiven. He was different now, and so was she. He was no longer the closed off, cold god who sealed her away like a doll on a shelf. And she was no longer the naive, wide-eyed girl who could not stand up for herself. They had been through so much bad, so many trials, and were stronger for it.

And now...at what very well could be the end...Isabella found that this goodbye hurt nearly as much as all the other terrible things.

Edward's gaze went soft, and for the briefest moments Isabella wondered what might have happened had they been able to touch. Would he have kissed her? Would she have allowed it?

Instead, Edward nodded his head and turned away. He did not allow himself to look back. Isabella was grateful for it. She did not wish for him to see her fall to the floor and cry - cry every tear she had not allowed herself before. Cry for the unfairness of it all, for her husband who did not deserve to suffer for so long, for her child who did not deserve to have its life taken before it even began, for the girl she used to be and could have been had the Elders not chosen her for a path that only led to suffering and hardship.

That was how the aurae found her when they reappeared. They said nothing, simply gathering their mistress from the floor and helping her to bed. They afforded her such care. Isabella tried to savor their gentle touches, knowing that they were more than likely going to be the last she ever received.

The clouds parted, revealing the most beautiful moon Isabella had ever seen, and the first beams of brilliant moonlight filtered through the room.

Then, a pain as sharp and sudden as a knife stabbed Isabella in the side, releasing a flood of fluid from between her legs.

She let out her first scream in time to the howl of wolves.


End file.
